


Playing Card Games Is Just Like Making Love

by ChaosRocket, Taemanaku



Series: Playing Card Games Is Just Like Making Love [1]
Category: Yu-Gi-Oh!
Genre: M/M, Post-Canon, Thiefshipping
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-11
Updated: 2013-06-11
Packaged: 2017-12-14 15:02:36
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 33
Words: 109,995
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/838228
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ChaosRocket/pseuds/ChaosRocket, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Taemanaku/pseuds/Taemanaku
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Marik is about to enter a new Duel Monsters tournament when Bakura comes back and changes everything. Post-canon, Thiefshipping.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I, ChaosRocket, co-wrote this story with Taemanaku. We hope you enjoy it! Thanks to SuperSteffy for being our beta!

If he turned his head to the left, Marik would see the bright lights of Luxor in the distance. But as he slammed down the kickstand and removed his helmet, his attention went to the right.

The dig site of the Millennium Items.

Over the last few months, millions of Egyptian pounds had been poured into what looked like piles of rocks and sand. But he, as well as the team of museum officials running the project, knew that the site possessed something far more valuable than dirt. After the pharaoh had entered the afterlife, all seven pieces of gold had sunk into the sand, gleaming one last time before being sealed into the desert's depths.

And now, three years later, they were being dug up again so that they could be displayed at the museum. Marik could imagine their vision: the number of visitors they'd attract from around the world just to see the gold items inside the glass cases.

He neared the site, taking quiet footsteps in the shadows. It was hard to mask the sound of his sneakers as he walked across the sand, but he did his best. He knew that he wasn't supposed to be here. If the guard who was patrolling the dig site saw him, there would be questions. And then it would get back to everyone who was working at the site that he'd trespassed, and they would be suspicious of his motives.

Fortunately, he didn't think the guard would see him; it was dark, and he was close to the site now, standing behind a large rock to remain unseen.

He felt a sudden spark of irritation at the fact that he had sneak around like this. He didn't mean any harm by being here. He wasn't even sure exactly why he'd come, but he certainly didn't plan to cause trouble. He supposed he just wanted to see the place where Ishizu and the others were digging. He'd offered to help with the digging, but they'd declined his offer. Though they didn't come right out and say it to his face, it was obvious that they still didn't trust him. He knew that his sister loved him, but he often wondered if he had truly redeemed himself in her eyes. And with the others in his town, he didn't even have to wonder- he knew they still regarded him with suspicion. They didn't think he was a trustworthy person and they didn't accept him as one of them.

And really, it wasn't fair.

At that moment, the anger he'd been holding back for so long threatened to boil over. He'd been telling himself that the way they felt about him was understandable; that it took time to earn back trust and respect. But it was starting to seem like they would never trust him; they would never respect him. They would never accept him as a good person and treat him as an equal, no matter what he did. He'd spent the last three years of his life trying to be good, trying to do right, trying to help out, and it still wasn't enough. He'd been feeling more and more resentful lately. He'd tried to force himself to deny those feelings, to rationalize the behavior of his community towards him, but he didn't know how much longer he could do that.

Three years ago, Marik had shown the pharaoh the markings on his back and given him the two Millennium Items he'd held. Then he'd gone back to Egypt to finish his duty to his family. And once the world was no longer in peril, once his duty to his clan was done, he'd tried to better himself so that he could fit in as a normal member of society. He'd gotten a job, and now he was supporting himself, making an honest living, paying his bills like everyone else. He'd also been going to school, trying to get the education that he'd missed out on in his younger years. It was slow going- he didn't have much time for classes because his job at the museum kept him quite busy- but still he persisted.

He worked at same museum where Ishizu worked. Ishizu held a good job with lots of prestige attached to it- not to mention money. Of course, it wasn't the same for Marik. He worked a lowly position and was paid little. But he was a responsible worker; he always showed up on time and did a good job. Just like he was being responsible and doing the right thing in every other area of his life.

And none of it mattered. No matter what he did, no matter how much he tried to be helpful and do good, it wasn't enough. The reason he'd volunteered to work on the dig was because he'd just wanted to help out, to do something good for the community. And of course, he'd been denied even that.

And even now, he still wanted to impress them and redeem himself. He wasn't sure how to go about doing that, but he had an idea. He'd seen postings of an upcoming Duel Monsters tournament in the city of Luxor. It was a stretch, but if he could win that tournament, maybe he'd win some respect, too. People who won Duel Monsters tournaments were always regarded with respect, even awe. Win enough tournaments, and you could become famous. Maybe then the people at the museum, and the people in his city, would stop shunning him.

And they _did_ shun him. Despite his best efforts, he was still treated as an outsider. Hell, never mind respect- he didn't even have any _friends._ He'd been back for three years, and his entire "social life" still consisted of his brother and his sister. The last time he'd had a friend- in fact, the only time he'd _ever_ had a friend- was the last time he'd been entered into a Duel Monsters tournament, back in Battle City.

Of course, this tournament would be different. There would be no dark games; no danger of anyone getting killed. Just a regular card tournament with a big cash prize for the winner. So really, it should be much easier than the Battle City tournament where things had gone so wrong for himself and his former friend and partner in crime.

His train of thought was suddenly cut off as he felt an inexplicable but strong urge to move closer to the dig site. He didn't want to go down there; the last thing he needed was to get himself in trouble. But the pull he felt wouldn't be denied. He didn't even feel like he was in complete control of his actions as he slipped out from behind the rock and began to move closer.

He stopped himself before he could go too far, getting an idea. He spotted the guard a ways off and, while still remaining hidden, he scooped up a rock from the ground and threw it as hard as he could to the right of the dig site.

In the silence of the night, the sound of the rock hitting the ground might as well have been an exploding grenade. The guard's head snapped up instantaneously, and as he stood slowly and walked in the direction of the noise, Marik's lips curved into a smile. He slipped forward through the shadows, slinking by the mounds of dirt.

Though the diggers had been working here for months, they'd had very little progress. Not a single Millennium Item had been discovered yet, though there were dozens of holes throughout the site to prove their efforts. They knew the Items had sunk in this general area of the Valley of the Kings, but the entire chamber had collapsed after Yugi's ceremonial duel, so no one knew exactly where they had been sealed.

The tug Marik felt grew stronger and more insistent. He strode carefully around the excavation site, nearing one of the holes. His motions were still completely on auto-pilot, as if he were in a dream. He should have been worried that something was controlling him so powerfully, but he allowed the guidance to move him forward fluidly and quickly.

He carefully dropped into one of holes, which was roughly half of his height, all the while hoping the guard was still occupied at the other side of the site. Marik glanced at one of the side walls. And then, without any self-restraint or speculation that what he was doing was crazy, he started digging.

The dirt was loose and dry between his fingers. The wind picked up, rushing through the silent desert. He dug slowly and carefully to minimize the noise he was making. He felt exhilarated, somehow. The pull still guided him, and he dug as if he knew exactly where to look.

Suddenly, Marik touched something smooth and sharp. His breath stilled as he ran his fingers over the object. He followed the shape of it and as the realization dawned on him, the hair on the back of his neck raised.

He pulled the Millennium Ring out of the wall.

He stared at it for a whole minute, holding it tensely in his two hands, trying to decide if he was dreaming or not. Was this a trick? The diggers had been here for months and yet it had taken Marik only a short while to find the Ring. He traced the curve of the gold, shivering. What sort of power had drawn him here?

But he couldn't waste time wondering. If the guard discovered him now, there really would be questions. And he was definitely not ready to explain the strange tug he'd felt leading him to this particular spot.

He climbed out of the hole quickly, still clutching the Ring, making sure to keep an eye out for the guard. Marik strode in the opposite direction from where he'd come to ensure that he and the guard didn't cross paths, and stepped out of the excavation site. A little ways off, he found his parked motorcycle and started the engine.

The Ring...

Marik was suddenly reminded all too strongly of its owner again. The only person he'd ever considered a friend, aside from his siblings. It felt strange to own something that defined him. It felt even stranger to separate the two. Bakura and the Ring. The Ring and Bakura. Even three years later, that name was still painfully familiar on Marik's tongue.

He slipped the Ring over his head, sliding it under his shirt. The cold spokes lay against his bare chest, feeling frigidly intimate on his skin. The tug he'd felt earlier was still pressing on him and, realizing that he was still in the vicinity of the excavation site, Marik kicked up the kickstand and rode off.

* * *

  
His home was nothing special.

It was a one-bedroom apartment he rented with the little money he scraped together every month. The walls were peeling or faded in some places and the gas stove was awfully temperamental. His rugs were well-treaded and mismatched and his neighbors were very noisy. The only thing he couldn't grumble about was the quick walk to the market.

Still, he couldn't complain. Compared to where he'd grown up, this arrangement was heavenly.

Marik threw his motorcycle keys on the kitchen table and opened the little fridge. He had half a mind to just jump into bed because he was bone-weary from the day's work, but his growling stomach disagreed on that note.

As he poured himself a glass of juice, he suddenly felt the Ring's spokes on his lower chest, gently clinking. He pulled the Ring out from under his shirt, finally taking a look at it under the bright fluorescent lights.

It was still smudged with dirt, but shining nonetheless. Marik felt the Ring's sheer power in his fingertips, resonating throughout his entire body. It was the same force he'd encountered the first time he'd met its owner. Powerful, cold, and riveting. Marik recalled all the times he'd felt breathless with the knowledge that he'd found his equal.

Suddenly, he felt something odd. Almost like a nudge in his head, or a jab in the very fabric of his mind. Marik's grasp on the Ring tightened. Strange...it felt a lot like...

And then Marik's eyes widened. In his shock, he dropped the Ring to the floor. It clattered against the tile, shattering the silence of the apartment and the stillness that came with three years of missing that voice.

Bakura.

And the words that reverberated in his mind:

"It's been a while, hasn't it, Marik?"


	2. Chapter 2

After hesitating for only a moment, Marik bent down and picked up the Ring again, holding it tensely in his two hands.

"B-bakura?"

A voice rang out in his head. "Who else?"

Marik could hardly believe it. "I-I didn't think you still existed."

"A human soul can be destroyed by none other than Ammit himself. Zorc was destroyed, but the human part of my soul survived, and had nowhere to return but here," said the voice in his head—Bakura. The voice was really Bakura. He would know it anywhere.

"So you've been trapped in the Ring for three years?"

"Has it been that long? It's hard to judge time in here," the voice echoed in his mind again.

"Yeah," said Marik, trying to regain his composure. "It's been three years since you—since you've been gone."

"Happy to hear from me?" Bakura asked teasingly.

Marik jumped a little. "Why would you think that?"

"Because I heard you thinking about me," said Bakura. "That's why I was able to call out to you."

"So _that's_ why I felt the urge to dig there," Marik realized. "You really could have gotten me in trouble, you know!"

"Well, you didn't get caught and it all worked out," said Bakura. "So, now that the formalities are out of the way, you can help me get my own body."

"You want me to..." Marik paused for a moment as he processed what Bakura was asking of him. "No way! In case you missed it, I'm good now! I'm not going to help you get a body just so you can run around killing people and trying to raise demons!"

"I'm not interested in doing any of that," said Bakura.

Marik rolled his eyes. "Do you really expect me to believe that?"

"Yes," said Bakura firmly. "Zorc is gone, so he's not around to influence me anymore. But more importantly, why would I even want to do that? The pharaoh is dead and the spirits of my people have moved on to the afterlife. What reason do I have to cause trouble? Oh, believe me, I'm not saying I plan on being a perfect little angel like you're apparently trying to be— I've always been a thief and I always will be. But as far as murder and demon-raising? No, I have no plans for that. No _reason_ for that. There would be no benefit to me."

"Even if I believed you and wanted to help you, how could I?" asked Marik.

"I know of a spell that will draw my spirit out of the Ring and give me a physical body of my own," said Bakura. "It's fairly easy to do. There are a few simple steps and some words in the language of ancient Egypt. I can tell you what to say."

"If the spell is so easy, why didn't you ever do this before?" asked Marik.

"A piece of Zorc's soul was already in the Ring when I sealed my soul in there," said Bakura. "The spell only works on a completely human soul— it wouldn't work while a piece of a demon's soul was still attached to mine. But now that Zorc is gone, doing the spell is a simple matter."

"If you want a body so badly, why try to convince me to help you?" asked Marik. "Why not just take over my body right now, while I have the Ring, the way you always did with Ryou? Then you could just use my body to do the spell. I have no doubt you've already thought of that, since it's pretty obvious."

"Of course I've thought of it," Bakura said. "But if I took over your body forcibly and made you do the spell against your will, I'm sure you wouldn't be too happy with me. And the sad fact is, I don't think I can afford to piss you off too much. Once I have my own body, I'm going to need you to work with me, not against me."

"And why is that?" asked Marik.

"For one thing, if I get you mad enough, you might attack me the instant I was in my own body—and you'd have the Ring, so I'd be basically defenseless against you. Even if you didn't do that, you'd try to keep the Ring from me, and then you'd probably run around telling everyone I was back."

"And you don't want anyone to know you're back?" asked Marik.

"It's the last thing I want," said Bakura forcefully. "Imagine if Yugi and his idiot friends heard that I was back. Do you think they'd just ignore it? They'd come after me and try to start trouble. And as much as you might not believe it, I don't want any serious trouble. I don't want to fight them. I'm fucking _sick_ of fighting them. I never want to see their stupid faces again. I never even want to _think_ about them again. I've spent the last three thousand years struggling and chasing vengeance and being trapped inside a damn piece of gold made from my family's corpses, and now I just want to live my fucking _life._ But do you really think anyone will let me do that after everything that's happened? What would your sister do if she knew I was back?"

Marik could see his point, and he could understand. "So are you talking about redemption?"

"Fuck no!" Bakura said so loudly that Marik rocked back on his heels. "I'm not sorry for one damn thing I did, and I already told you, I'll never try to be a good little boy like you think you are. I just want to be left alone and to live. That's all."

"So, you're not sorry, and you're not going to try to be good," said Marik contemptuously. "And not only do you want me to do a spell to get you your own body, you also want me to keep this whole thing a secret from everyone. Why would I do that? What would I get out of it?"

"Don't you think I deserve something from you, after all I've done for you?" Bakura's voice was loud, angry, making his ears ring. "Going along with your plan to fool Yugi and his dumb friends? And then risking myself to try to defeat your alternate personality so he wouldn't destroy your soul and kill your family? And you never even gave me the Rod like you promised! I'd say you owe me."

"I don't owe you anything!" cried Marik. "You failed! You lost the duel against my dark side— why should I give you something in return when you didn't actually accomplish anything that benefited me?"

Marik heard a deep growl inside his head. The next time he heard Bakura speak, it was with barely controlled rage.

"Fine, brat. I'll offer you something else, then. I heard you thinking about that tournament that you want to enter. I'll help you get whatever you need to get into the finals— I assume it's like other tournaments, where you have to collect a certain amount of pieces in order to get into the finals."

"Yes, you need eight Isfet Tokens to get into the finals. But how could you possibly help me get those?" asked Marik.

"By doing what I do best. Stealing them, of course," said Bakura.

"You really can't seem to get it through your head that I'm _good_ now. I don't want to get into the tournament by cheating."

"Relax," said Bakura. "Once you got into the finals, you'd be on your own— you could win all the games by yourself without cheating at all. So it would still be a legitimate victory. But wouldn't it be sad if you never even made it to the finals because you couldn't get all the Isfet Tokens you need? Do you really think you have enough time to win them all before the finals start? I do believe you've never actually played in a single Duel Monsters tournament yourself. Your other personality, your mind slaves...but never you. If you're as terrible at dueling as you were at being a criminal, you're in trouble."

"Hey! I'll have you know—"

But the voice in his head cut him off. "Have you ever won a game of Duel Monsters, Marik?"

"Well...no..." Marik admitted sheepishly.

"Then I think you need my help getting those Isfet Tokens," Bakura said. "Of course, you can't steal them yourself since you're so _good_ now, and it would be very bad for your reputation if you got caught. So I'll have to do it for you. I won't get caught or even allow myself to be seen—I'm too good a thief for that."

Marik thought for a moment. He really wanted to win the tournament, and he supposed it wouldn't hurt to have Bakura's help. And besides, what else was he going to do? Throw the Ring away and leave Bakura trapped there for eternity? He didn't think he could bring himself to do that in any case.

"Alright, it's a deal," Marik said finally.

"Nice to be working with you again." There was a tinge of sarcasm in his voice.

"Yeah, just tell me how to do the spell," Marik said. "No sense in waiting, if it's as easy as you say."

Bakura’s voice sounded markedly happier as he launched into the details. "Okay, it won’t take long at all. The first thing you’ll need to do is clear a spot on the floor and draw a scarab. You can draw it with anything. A pen, a pencil, chalk, whatever you have lying around."

"A scarab, huh?" Marik asked with interest. He recognized the meaning of the object. In ancient Egypt, scarabs were the symbol of life restoration.

Marik grabbed the first writing utensil he could find at his desk— a crayon he'd been using to underline major concepts in his school notes— and returned to the kitchen. Briefly, it dawned on him that he’d have to wipe off the crayon from the tile after the spell was complete— which would be an absolute pain— but then he dropped down to the floor with the Ring still in hand and set to work.

He drew the scarab to the best of his ability, letting its round body span from the edge of the fridge to the legs of the kitchen table. When it was complete, he waited for more instructions from Bakura.

"Good," he finally said. "Now, stand in the middle of the drawing and concentrate on my spirit. Make sure you're concentrating on _me_ , so that you don't bring back some other random spirit. Then say these words."

He told Marik the words of the ancient Egyptian spell. Marik felt them on his tongue, acquainting himself with the pulsing, olden magic.

"And you’re sure this will work?"

If he could see Bakura, Marik would have guessed that he was standing with his arms crossed, raising an eyebrow at him for even asking.

"I'm sure."

Marik stood up. His hands tightened around the Ring as he held it close to his chest.

He took a deep breath and focused his gaze on the trail of green crayon underneath his feet. He fixed an image of Bakura in his mind and then began speaking the words that Bakura had told him.

"N pnm t di ankh...” he started. “Hsi nu sahk..." The words were ripped out of his throat, leaving a blazing fire on his tongue. The magic scorched his lips as he finished the spell. "Ha sahk tah."

And then, with his heart hammering in his chest, he asked Bakura, “Did it work?”

But he received no reply.


	3. Chapter 3

To say that Marik was surprised when he finally found himself face to face with Bakura after three years would be an understatement. For a second, he worried that he might have resurrected some otherworldly demon, but then he found Bakura's brown eyes on his, and saw a scowl on Bakura's pale face as the latter recognized the body in which he'd been brought back.

"Ryou?" Bakura asked, sounding both incredulous and ticked off. "Why would you bring me back in Ryou's body?"

"Well, it's the only body I remember you in, so how else would I picture you when I focused on you?" Marik shot back, though he was still reeling at the idea that Bakura was alive and well and standing in his kitchen right now.

Bakura scoffed, crossing his arms. "And I was actually looking forward to having my old body back. This one is so...weak and pale compared to my original body."

"Either way, I think Ryou's body suits you," Marik replied. "I mean, it's not like it's unattractive or anything." Marik bit his tongue before he could go so far as to say that he _was_ attractive.

Bakura gave him a strange look but ignored the comment. He then extended his hand toward Marik expectantly. "Now that you're done using the Ring, I'd like it back," he said.

Marik clutched the Ring tightly, making no move to return it. "I don't think so. The Ring is essentially a weapon. I don't want you using it to harm innocent people."

"What?" Bakura asked sharply. "Are you...keeping it from me?"

"Yes. I don't want you using it to hurt anyone."

"And exactly how do you expect me to steal these Tokens for you if I can't use the Ring?" Bakura still looked appalled at the idea that he wasn't getting the Ring back.

Marik shrugged. "You claim that you're such a great thief. Stealing a few Tokens shouldn't be a problem for you."

"I don't even-" Bakura started. He shook his head, trying to get control of himself.

At that point, it seemed that Bakura had reached his limit. He was clenching and unclenching his fists unconsciously while his mouth struggled to find the right words. For a moment, Marik wondered if there was a possibility that Bakura might actually strangle him right then.

"Of _course_ I can steal the Tokens without the Ring," Bakura finally snapped. "But that's not the point here. Do you realize that the Ring rightfully belongs to me? That it was made from the blood of my people? That I _watched_ as that piece of gold you're holding in your hands was melted and sculpted out of my people's burning flesh? How can you even stand there and tell me I can't have it back?"

Bakura's words cut deep into Marik. But a moment later, Marik regained his resolve. "Let me put it this way," Marik said. "I'll give the Ring back to you when I feel that I can trust you not to use it for evil purposes. The last thing I want is to be the person who gave you the Ring and then have you use it to harm people. I don't want to be even partially responsible for anything violent that you might do to get me into this tournament. So until you can prove to me that you're not going to hurt anybody, you'll just have to wait."

Bakura still looked supremely pissed. The fact that Marik was withholding his own possession from him was outrageous.

Theoretically, if he really wanted it back, he could just stride over to Marik, knock him over, and grab the Ring. But in this body, he was weaker than Marik, and there was even a possibility that Marik would use the Ring to defend himself against any attack that Bakura might make. And still, Bakura didn't want to make an enemy of Marik.

So Bakura tried to put aside his anger. If he could earn Marik's trust, then Marik would give him the Ring willingly. There was nothing else he could do about it in the meantime, so he might as well bide his time.

But something else in their conversation nagged at him. So he let the issue of the Ring drop for the moment and instead addressed what he sensed was a recurring theme with Marik.

"Why the hell are you trying so hard to be good, anyway? Are you still wallowing in guilt and hating yourself for everything you did?"

Marik was glad to see that they'd stopped discussing the Ring, but he knew Bakura was still trying to needle him. Nonetheless, he gave the question some serious thought. "I don't feel nearly as guilty as I used to," he said finally. "But yeah, I still feel bad about what I've done sometimes."

"Well, stop it. It's fucking stupid," Bakura replied.

That reaction caused Marik to lash out just as harshly. "Well, thank you for that profound insight! My problems are now over! It's a damn good thing you came back!"

"Do you honestly even think you did anything that bad?" Bakura said. "What did you really do? Steal some stuff? Use a little mind control? Oh, and one loser _chose_ to kill himself when you brought up bad memories for him. You tried to murder some people, but you were so incompetent you failed every time you tried."

"Yes, because _your_ ridiculous plans worked out so much better than mine did," Marik snapped. "And that's not all I did. Are you forgetting the tiny fact that I killed my father?"

"Don't you get it? That wasn't your fault."

Marik rolled his eyes. "Oh, so now are you going to tell me that it wasn't me who killed my father, it was my dark personality, so I can't be held responsible?"

"Hell no!" Bakura said forcefully. "I'm going to tell you that _you did the right thing._ What else were you supposed to do? Live trapped underground for the rest of your life? Let your father go on beating you and your beloved brother? Let him fuck you up in the head more than he already did? No, you did the best thing you could possibly do, considering your circumstances."

"I guess I'd expect that kind of reasoning from you," Marik scoffed, though a small part of him was glad to hear Bakura's words. He had been blaming himself for so long, and he'd never heard an outsider's perspective. "You were always all about the vengeance."

"Hell yes. I got dealt a bad hand in life, and that sucks. It would be nice if it wasn't that way. But it was, so I didn't just lie down and take it. I did something about it."

"And that worked out so well for you," Marik replied, crossing his arms.

"Yeah, it pretty much did. I'm still alive after 3,000 years and all of my goals have essentially been accomplished. So I'd say I came out of it pretty well. Do you think I waste time feeling guilty or regretting anything I did? No, because I did what I had to do, just like you did."

"You do realize that this is my father we're talking about, right? It wasn't just some random person who came around and hurt the people I loved. It was my own father."

"And why the hell should that matter? Just because someone happens to be genetically related to you doesn't mean that they deserve your love or respect. They have to earn it, just like everyone else. And from everything I've heard, your father didn't deserve a damn thing from you other than the stab wound you gave him. The fact is, it's pathetic that you're still feeling sorry for yourself and beating yourself up over your past all these years later. You're fucking pathetic."

Rage sparked in Marik, and any feeling he'd had that Bakura understood his situation was blotted out. "Oh, fuck you!" Marik exclaimed. "What the hell do you know? Maybe I should just slit your throat right now with the point of your own Ring. Nobody would ever know, and you sure as hell wouldn't be able to defend yourself since I brought you back in that weak little body."

But Bakura only smiled. "Ah, now that's the Marik I know. Let that anger out. It's good for you."

"Is that what this is? Just some scheme to get me mad so that I'll go back to being evil?"

"Well, that might be part of it," Bakura said, smirking slightly. "But everything I said is also the honest truth. You'd better believe it. I'm actually trying to help you."

"You just don't understand," Marik said.

"Ishtar, I understand you better than anyone else who has ever existed. We're the same. And I know you know it, because I heard you thinking it. You need to stop crying and moaning over what you did in the past."

"Do you see me crying? Do you?" asked Marik defensively. "Maybe you think I feel worse about all this than I actually do. It's been three years since you last saw me. I told you that I don't feel as bad about it as I used to."

"Then why are you still trying to redeem yourself and fit in with these jerks who will never accept you for who you really are?" Bakura asked perceptively.

"Because I want a life! Did you ever think of that? Maybe I just want to move on and live a normal life, the way you say you do."

"I don't plan for my life to be about changing who I am and being accepted by people who will never understand me anyway. But whatever you say," said Bakura dismissively. "You want to win this tournament, and I said I'd help you, and I'll hold up my end of our deal."

"You'd damn well better," Marik replied sullenly.

"You don't have to worry about it. Of the two of us, I believe _you're_ the one with a history of failing to hold up his end of the bargain."

"Let's not start that again," Marik said tiredly. "Apparently I'm going to be stuck with you for a while. If we're going to be working together again, let's try to go five minutes without fighting, alright?"

"Okay, how about we duel instead?"

Marik's head snapped up. "What?"

"I believe we've already established that you've never won a game of Duel Monsters. I think you could use some practice if you actually expect to do well in the finals. You might learn something from me."

"Well...I don't know about learning anything from you, but I guess it makes sense to practice before the tournament."

"I certainly don't want to waste my time stealing all these Tokens for you just to have you get eliminated in the first round," Bakura scoffed.

"I won't get eliminated in the first round! I'm better than you think!"

"Then duel me," Bakura dared.

"Alright, fine."

"You have cards, right?"

"Yeah, of course," Marik said. He hadn't spent all that time stealing rare cards not to keep a couple hundred cards on hand. "I'll go get my decks, and we can play on the kitchen table."

"Oh, and Marik?"

"Yeah?" Marik replied distractedly, poised to head into his bedroom.

When he turned to face Bakura, he found them nearly nose to nose. Bakura grabbed him by the shoulders and gave him a serious look. "Just remember one thing," he said. "Your father deserved it. He fucking deserved it. _It wasn't your fault_."

Bakura let go immediately and stepped into the kitchen without a backward glance. Marik stood stunned for a moment, wondering at the serious expression on Bakura's face.

He shook his head to clear it and set out to find his cards.

* * *

  
"Do you even remember how to play?" Bakura drawled, picking up five cards from his deck.

"Of course," Marik snorted. "It's not like I've never played in my life. Why don't I go first to show you?"

Bakura glanced at him, amused. They were sitting across from one another at the small kitchen table. He played with the frayed ends of the tablecloth while Marik perused his cards and formulated a strategy.

"How long have you been living here, anyway?" Bakura asked while he waited for Marik to make a move. "The place is a hellhole."

Marik took a card from his hand and placed into his graveyard- Gravekeeper's Commandant, Bakura briefly noticed- and glared at him.

"It's all I can afford," Marik replied coolly. "Anyway, the card I threw into my graveyard lets me draw Necrovalley into my hand and-"

"Yeah, yeah, I know the rules," Bakura interrupted, clearly not as interested in the game as in Marik's answer. "So when did you move out of the tomb?"

"After the pharaoh's ceremonial duel," Marik said, placing Battle Ox into attack mode, and then placing three more cards facedown into his spell and magic card zone, and ending his turn. "We all moved out after that; all of the tomb keeper's clan, including my brother and sister and I. Rishid and Ishizu live in Luxor too, but I decided to live alone after- everything."

Bakura gave him a significant look, as he saw proof that Marik did indeed feel guilty about what he'd done.

"Your turn," Marik said sharply.

Bakura wasted no time in putting Dark Zebra into attack mode, attaching the magic card Black Pendant to increase its attack to 2,300, and obliterating Marik's Battle Ox.

"Dammit," Marik muttered under his breath as he watched Bakura write 7,400 on Marik's score sheet. Bakura's score was still a flawless 8,000.

"Tell me more," Bakura said. "Why is this all you can afford?"

Marik drew a card, ignoring Bakura's question momentarily. He activated Fissure, which destroyed the monster with the lowest attack points on Bakura's side of the field- Dark Zebra. Fortunately for Bakura, his monster was in defense mode due to its special ability, so he lost no points.

"I work at the Luxor Museum," Marik finally replied. "It's not much pay, since they don't regard me very highly. But it's something. And it lets me have this." He gave the kitchen a brief glance, which turned sour when he saw the curling, faded wallpaper.

He suddenly noticed Bakura inking a 6,900 on his score sheet and frowned.

"What's that for? I just destroyed your monster."

"Yeah, but since you also sent my Black Pendant to the graveyard, that lets me take 500 life points from you directly," Bakura replied, giving him a smug smile. "So what exactly do you do at work? Since you're not paid much, your job must be pretty menial."

In reply, Marik summoned two more monsters into attack mode and since Bakura was monster-less at the moment, he extracted 3,400 points from Bakura.

"There," Marik said haughtily. Bakura was now down to 4,600 life points and Marik watched with self-satisfaction as he wrote in the score. He might have started off rocky, but he wasn't about to let Bakura win this game.

He returned to the question at hand as Bakura drew a card.

"Well, right now I work at the gift shop," Marik said. "It would be easy work if it weren't for the customers. They complain about everything- the quality of the merchandise, the authenticity, the price- it's like, geez, if you don't want to buy it, then don't. No one's forcing you to be here."

Bakura smiled. He placed Drillago on the field, adding Malevolent Nuzzler to reach a total attack power of 2,300, and attacked Marik directly.

"That sounds like hell," he said, as he wrote Marik's new score.

Marik eyed their even scores morosely. They were now matched at 4,600. "Tell me about it."

"What else do you do, other than work? From what I've heard so far, it sounds like you live a pretty boring life."

Marik raised a new monster to the field and made to attack Bakura, who countered with Mirror Force, killing all three monsters on Marik's side of the field.

"I'm taking some online classes too," Marik finally replied, putting all three of his monsters into the graveyard. This game was really not turning out in his favor. "I've never had proper schooling, so it's kind of tough."

Bakura placed a new monster on his field. Belatedly, Marik realized that he had no cards to prevent a direct attack, and with two monsters and the magic card Rush Recklessly, Bakura took out 4,800 life points in one turn.

"That's-" Marik grimaced as all his life points were wiped out. "That's not fair. You must have cheated."

Bakura rolled his eyes and wrote at the top of the score sheet: Marik-0. Bakura-4,600.

"Tough luck," he replied, standing up from the table. "But you need practice. I appreciate you showing me just how great you are at dueling after all."

"Fuck off," Marik said tiredly as he gathered up his cards. He wasn't in the mood to argue any longer. He was still exhausted from the day's work and as he glanced at the clock on his microwave, he noticed that it was now precisely 2:07 a.m. Thankfully, tomorrow was the weekend and he didn't have to worry about having to interact with customers or snapping anyone's head off in his irritability. Other than Bakura's, perhaps.

As Marik yawned, Bakura walked into the living room curiously, observing the small apartment more closely.

"So, where do I sleep?" he asked.

Marik just pointed to the couch tucked into a corner of the living room. There was single pillow decorating the couch and the edges of the cushion covers were ratty-looking.

Bakura made a face at him, but Marik paid him no heed.

"There are clean sheets in the cabinet. Make yourself at home."

Minutes later, Marik collapsed into his bed and didn't wake up again until long, long into the morning.


	4. Chapter 4

Marik woke up to a clanging sound. At first, he almost panicked, wondering why someone would be in his house. Then he remembered. Bakura was here. He'd spent the night. He shuddered a little at the thought. _Bakura had spent the night._ The whole situation still seemed unbelievable.

Moments later, Marik stumbled into the kitchen and looked blearily at Bakura, who was standing in front of the stove.

"What are you doing?" asked Marik groggily.

"What the hell does it look like? I'm making myself breakfast."

"What's that smell? It smells like..."

"Steak," Bakura finished for him.

Marik rubbed his eyes as he slowly came fully awake. "Wait a minute...where did you get steak?"

"Went out and stole it," Bakura said casually. "You don't have anything decent to eat in this place."

"Bakura!"

"What?" Bakura asked innocently.

"You sneaked out and stole something? What if you'd been caught? What if you'd been seen?"

"I was careful," Bakura said as he took the frying pan off the stove and dumped its contents onto a plate. "I'll be doing plenty of sneaking around and stealing things when I go out to get those Tokens for you, so I don't know what you're complaining about."

Marik supposed that Bakura was right. Not that he wanted to admit it. So he changed the subject instead. "Who eats steak for breakfast, anyway?"

"I do." Bakura turned around and set the plate on the kitchen table. Then he started searching through the kitchen drawers. For a knife and fork, Marik assumed.

Marik eyed Bakura's meal. The meat was swimming in its own blood. He wrinkled his nose in disgust. "I don't know why you even bothered to fry that at all. It's barely seared."

Bakura had to laugh at how totally revolted Marik sounded. Having found himself some silverware, Bakura sat down at the table.

"I bet you've never even tried meat, have you?"

"Well, no," Marik admitted.

"Then how do you know you don't like it?"

"My clan doesn't eat meat," Marik said. "It's just not done. We're all vegetarians."

Bakura raised his eyebrows and gave Marik a significant look. "The clan doesn't own you anymore. They don't even _want_ you. Don't you think it's time you stopped following their arbitrary rules and traditions?"

Marik rolled his eyes and groaned. "Oh, _please_ tell me we're not going to start this argument again!" He plopped theatrically down into the chair across from Bakura, looking entirely put out.

"We don't have to argue," Bakura smiled. "Just try it. One bite. It won't kill you."

"And if I do, will it get you to shut up?"

Bakura's smile widened. "For now."

"Alright, fine, one bite, if it will end this stupid conversation. But I'm not eating it like _that._ That thing's practically still alive."

Bakura sighed with irritation, as if Marik was being totally ridiculous. "Alright, I'll cut off a piece for you and cook it well done. Happy?"

"No," said Marik sulkily, crossing his arms.

Bakura ignored him and cut a chunk of meat off of his steak. He dropped it into the frying pan and put it back on the stove. The burner was still hot. They were both silent as the small piece of steak sizzled on the pan. When Bakura judged that it was done, he slid the meat onto a second plate and handed it to Marik.

Marik looked at it dubiously. Finally, he cut off a tiny piece and took a cautious bite. His eyes widened. It actually wasn't that bad...

Bakura saw the look on his face. "See? I knew you'd like it."

"Well, it's not terrible."

"How big of you to admit that," said Bakura sarcastically.

Marik took another bite, and then another.

"Maybe you should do more things that your clan never let you do," Bakura suggested with a sly smile.

Marik looked at him warningly. "Bakura, you promised-"

Bakura held up his hands in mock surrender. "Alright, alright. Not another word. For now."

Bakura then tore into his own steak, and neither of them said anything else for the rest of the meal. Marik didn't even bother saying anything when Bakura got up and walked out of the room, leaving him to deal with the dishes. He could talk to him about housework later.

Their days settled into a pattern after that.

Marik laid down a few "house rules" before Bakura could get too comfortable, though. Bakura was to sleep on the couch in the living room. He was to fend for himself while Marik was out working. He was to clean up after himself and keep the apartment tidy. He was to stay quiet and out of the way when Marik studied for his online classes.

More or less, Bakura followed these rules, but there was one exception- it seemed he couldn't be bothered to keep the place clean. Marik often came home to a mess in the kitchen and an even bigger mess in the living room. As an employee who dusted display cases and carried cardboard boxes up and down shelves all day, the last thing Marik wanted to do was clean some more when he got home. He'd told Bakura again and again that the least he could do was refrain from creating extra work for him, but it never seemed to sink in.

Increasing the tension was the fact that Bakura was often deathly bored. Sometimes, he left the apartment and strolled through Luxor, stealing things here and there. But he knew that Marik didn't really want him wandering around needlessly, and Bakura had to concede that Marik's concerns were legitimate. It could be trouble for both of them if he were to be spotted by anyone from the city- especially someone who might recognize him. And so, even though it did nothing to relieve his boredom, he often stayed in the house all day while Marik was at work.

The one thing that kept Bakura sane was their practice duels. After Marik came home, snapped at Bakura about the perpetual mess, vented about his coworkers, and had dinner, they took out two decks of cards and dueled at the kitchen table. It became a habitual thing. It became a way to relax, to stay entertained, and to just hold a decent conversation with his new roommate.

* * *

  
"Why was _I_ the one who lost 600 points? I just added Reinforcements to my Gravekeeper's Assailant, giving it 2500 attack points, so you should be losing 100 points since your Darkfire Soldier #1 is only at 2400 after being powered up by Malevolent Nuzzler," Marik said in one breath.

Bakura momentarily ignored Marik while he inked in their scores. Marik was winning, and had been since the start of the duel, yet he never failed to complain when he lost points.

"I used Rush Recklessly, which added another 700 attack points to my Darkfire Soldier," Bakura explained. "So you lose 600. But you're still winning, and I've already used some of my best cards, so shut up and make your move."

Marik muttered under his breath and played Queen's Bodyguard as well as a facedown card in defense mode.

It had been some time since they'd first dueled, and although Marik was getting better at it, he still wasn't terribly good at strategy. Up until tonight, Bakura had never been this close to losing before, and he chalked it all up to luck on Marik's part.

"The tournament's actually starting tonight, did you know?" Marik asked, eyeing Bakura's new monster.

Bakura glanced at his hand irritably, trying to find a decent card to play. "How would I know? I'm practically always in your apartment all day," he grumbled.

"I'm planning to sign up for it tomorrow," Marik continued, ignoring Bakura's moodiness. "They give each participant an Isfet Token to start out with, and I'll have to get another seven to get into the finals."

A few moves later, Marik had destroyed the only monster on Bakura's side of the field, summoned Dark Zebra, and attacked him for 2800 life points with both Dark Zebra and Queen's Bodyguard. Bakura morosely glanced at the magic and trap card area of his field and realized that he had nothing with which to counter the attack. Marik had been getting lucky the whole game with cards like Malevolent Catastrophe, Hayabusa Knight, and numerous power-ups, while Bakura had been drawing very unhelpful cards.

"So I guess this means that starting tonight you can go out and start stealing Isfet Tokens," Marik finished, snapping Bakura out of his dueling reverie.

"I guess so," Bakura replied.

A few turns later, Marik brought out Legendary Fiend, which only had 1500 attack points, but also possessed the special ability to gain 700 attack points after each of Marik's standby phases. Since Bakura had no good cards to take the monster out when it was still at 1500 attack points, he watched as its power grew, and after just two turns, left Bakura with a giant zero on his score sheet.

It was the first time he had lost to Marik. And it felt very wrong. Sickening, almost, because he still considered himself a much better duelist than Marik.

Marik smiled widely as he gathered up their cards. "So, Bakura. Still think you can teach me any more dueling tricks?"

Bakura glared at him. "Quit regarding yourself so highly. You won on a fluke. Do you want to see my hand? It sucked from the moment you said, 'Let's duel.'"

"You're just being a sore loser."

"No, I'm being logical," Bakura said. "You got three more power-ups than I did and amazing monsters like Legendary Fiend and Hayabusa Knight while I kept getting Darkfire Soldiers. Just because you won once, it doesn't mean that you're suddenly great at dueling."

Marik rolled his eyes. "Excuses, excuses."

It was apparent that Marik refused to see reason, so Bakura turned away from him angrily, not wishing to discuss the subject further. He reached into his pocket and withdrew a pack of cigarettes that he'd stolen earlier. He pulled out a cigarette and lit it.

"Those things will kill you, you know," said Marik.

"Oh, my gods! I never knew that!" exclaimed Bakura sarcastically, whirling around to face Marik. "Thank you for informing me, kind sir! Because of this new knowledge, I shall throw this death stick out immediately!"

Bakura made a show of tossing the cigarette onto the floor, where it immediately began to singe a hole in the carpet.

"Ack!" yelled Marik.

Looking almost panicked, Marik quickly ran to pick up the cigarette before it could do further damage to the carpet. After stomping on the floor to extinguish the glowing embers, he took the cigarette over to the trash can and threw it away.

"Great, now there's a big black hole in the carpet," Marik said with disdain. "There's no way to fix that."

"And let it forever stand as a monument to your complete stupidity for saying something so dumb and useless to me," said Bakura.

Bakura was about to reach for a new cigarette- he'd barely gotten a start on the first one before he'd tossed it away- but then he saw the look on Marik's face. Marik was glaring at him murderously.

"Oh, come on, this is an apartment- it's not like you even own the carpet," Bakura pointed out.

"That's not the point," said Marik. "Do you even realize that you're a _guest_ here? You need to have some respect for my home! All you ever do is lay around uselessly, making messes and-"

"Screw this," Bakura said venomously, as he finally took another cigarette from the pack and lit it. "I don't have to deal with this. I'm going out."

"Where are you going?"

"To steal one of your precious Tokens. I think it's time I got started."

With that, Bakura turned on his heel and walked out, slamming the door behind him.

* * *

  
Bakura was still seething as he walked down the streets of Luxor, hidden by the city's shadows. On most days, he would have enjoyed the scenery- it wasn't often that he had a good reason to step foot outside of Marik's tiny apartment- but right now he didn't give a fuck for the panoramic buildings and the beautiful river view. The remnant of smoke in his lungs reminded him that Marik was still a nagging brat even though three years had passed, and the night breeze blowing past his exposed neck reminded him that the twine of the Millennium Ring was still missing against his skin.

How he despised not having the Ring.

Without it, he was a little less powerful, a little less confident, and a little less...himself. It had always been _his_ weapon, an extension of himself, transcending flesh and time. And now, he had to go it alone. He had to steal an Isfet Token without the comfort of the Ring around his neck.

The tournament had indeed started tonight. A stroll through the park revealed at least three pairs of duelists in the midst of mindless shouts of, "I place the Celtic Guardian in attack mode," and "This spell card allows me to destroy all your face-up monsters," while their friends cheered around them. Bakura's nose wrinkled as he remembered Battle City.

He had to find a dueling pair that wasn't surrounded by cheerleaders. Or a lone duelist who had just gotten a victory, which guaranteed that the duelist would have more than one Token. As Bakura walked through the park- head low, hands thrown into both coat pockets- he took note of the streetlight distribution, noise level, and population sparseness in each part of the park. Without his Ring, he would just have to be smarter, stealthier, and quieter.

The perfect opportunity appeared before his eyes as he rounded a bend in the sidewalk. Beneath a canopy of verdant trees, a young duelist sat on a cement bench, swathed by luxuriantly pruned bushes, perusing a set of cards. He must have been ten or twelve at most, given his short stature and the way he feverishly eyed the cards. The best part was the pair of headphones Bakura spotted in his ears. Since he occasionally mouthed something to himself and nodded his head to a beat, Bakura guessed that his music was on.

So, Bakura concluded, the boy was too engrossed in his cards to look up and too engrossed in his music to mind any noise. Bakura found it hard to keep the smile off his face as he approached.

He drew near the duelist from an angle where, even if the boy looked up, he wouldn't spot Bakura, and kept his footfalls light. Soon enough, he was right behind the set of bushes beside the bench and the duelist was within easy reach. Now the only concern was finding the Token.

A young duelist like him wouldn't think to be cautious. He'd probably put the Token in a pant or coat pocket. Bakura spied a jacket lying on the bench a few feet from the boy. He reached for it carefully, feeling for the pockets. He felt nothing in the first pocket, and tried the next.

He withdrew what looked like a smooth, small game piece, round and blue. The tournament was clearly imitating tokens that had been used with board games in ancient Egypt. There was a small caricature on the Token, representing the god Isfet.

Bakura retreated the moment he grabbed the Token, moving back quietly. Once he was several yards from the boy, he let out a deep breath.

Well, that had been easy. Despite missing his Ring, the lift had been flawless. Effortless, really. And the best thing was that the boy hadn't even noticed-

"Hey!"

Bakura flinched. In his surprise, he dropped the Token to the ground. He turned slowly, eyeing the boy who had now stood from the bench and was walking toward him. Bakura felt his mouth go dry as the boy approached, but he stood his ground. This was just a kid, anyway. If he wanted to pick a fight, Bakura was more than willing to give it to him.

"Mister," the boy started. His eyes were big, bright, and wide. "Looks like you have a Token there. Will you duel me for it?"

Bakura blinked. He had the thing all wrong. The boy looked ecstatic to see him, actually. He probably hadn't even played a duel in the tournament yet, and was looking for his first one. And here Bakura thought he'd actually been caught.

"No, I-" Bakura said. "I actually don't have my deck on me."

The boy looked disheartened.

"Sorry," Bakura offered awkwardly.

The kid bent down to pick up the Token that had fallen to the ground, and offered it back to Bakura. "That's alright. I'm just excited to start dueling. I've put together my cards and I have all my strategies!"

Bakura took the Token from him, shoving down the slight feeling of guilt that was starting to settle in the pit of his stomach. He turned from the boy, hoping to leave before he realized his mistake.

He hesitated before saying, "Good luck in the tournament."

And winced at his own words before he could help it. After all, he'd stolen the only Token the boy had. The boy couldn't play now even if he wanted to.

* * *

  
When Marik heard the front door click open, the first thing on his tongue was a reprimand and a demand to know how Bakura got into the apartment when there was a lock and chain on the door and only Marik and his siblings had a key-

But then Bakura nearly shoved something in his face and said, "Here," before Marik could say a single word.

"What's this?"

"Your goddamned Token." Bakura turned from him, taking the coat off his shoulders and striding into the living room.

Marik held the little blue token in his two hands. It took a moment for him to recognize what it was, given Bakura's sudden burst into the room. Marik had been angry for the past hour about the damage to his carpet, but seeing the game piece softened his irritation.

"Bakura?" He followed into the living room.

Bakura had already thrown on his sleeping clothes and glared at Marik when he walked in.

"What?"

"I just-" Marik started, unsure of what to say. His fingers tightened around the token. "Thank you. I appreciate this."

Bakura snorted. "You look surprised. Did you not expect me to keep my word?"

"I did," Marik replied, though he couldn't deny that he'd had his doubts. "But it's good to have it confirmed."

"Don't mention it," Bakura muttered, turning away from Marik.

If there was one thing he should've learned about Bakura by now, it's that he'd always keep his word.

Marik stood staring at him for another moment before he shook his head, smiling. Maybe he shouldn't have made such a big deal about that burn on the carpet after all.


	5. Chapter 5

Often times, on the weekends, Marik liked to relax by having a couple of beers in the evening. Bakura once asked him why he didn't drink anything harder. Marik explained that he couldn't legally buy liquor until he was 21, and anyway, spirits were incredibly expensive in Egypt.

The next Friday night, Bakura pulled out a bottle of Jack Daniels and slammed it down on the table. He'd gone out earlier and stolen it for Marik.

"Thanks," Marik had said awkwardly. But he appreciated it. The stuff really was costly, and he'd always wanted to try hard liquor.

Soon, they were sitting across the table from one another, Bakura smoking a cigarette, and Marik taking shots of whiskey. At first, when Marik slid a shot to Bakura's side of the table, Bakura professed that he'd just stolen the whiskey for Marik's sake, but at his constant urging, Bakura finally started taking shots too. Their decks lay in front of them, as usual, but so far, they were untouched.

The alcohol worked fast on Marik. He wasn't used to drinking anything so strong, and he had no idea of his limits. By the time he was on his fifth shot, he lost his train of thought, and couldn't even remember what he'd been talking to Bakura about. Something about his day at work? Some stupid coworker who had bitched at him for not moving fast enough? It had been something like that-

And that was nice, wasn't it? Usually, Marik didn't have anyone to talk to about these things. Sure, he could have talked to Rishid about his problems, but he felt as if he'd already put enough of a burden on Rishid in the past, and he knew that Rishid would worry and fret over him if he gave him the slightest inkling that anything was wrong. So he kept his mouth shut about his problems and pasted on a smile and talked about pleasant things whenever he visited his brother.

He had once tried to talk to Ishizu about his issues at work- and then she had scolded him and told him that he was lucky that he had a good, steady job, and lectured him about how the museum owners were very kind for allowing him this opportunity, and how his coworkers were perfectly nice people and it would just take them time to accept him, and besides, they had to deal with the same difficult work that he did.

Ishizu meant well, but she had always been more like a mother than a sister to him, and was prone to giving him "encouraging" speeches wherein she would explain to him that things weren't nearly as bad as he thought they were, and when he grew up, he would understand that, and then he would look back at his younger self and realize how silly his problems had been, and how great he'd really had it. It was the way almost all adults talked to teenagers, and none of them seemed to realize how very, very unhelpful it was. It was as if they had no memory at all of what it was like to be a teenager themselves, or as if they didn't believe that a young person could have any _real_ problems. Of course, Ishizu knew that Marik had certainly had his share of _real_ problems, but in her mind, that was all over now, and he should be grateful for the peaceful life he currently had. And the last thing he wanted was for Ishizu to think of him as some kind of ungrateful, immature brat. Whether she knew it or not, she was one of the only people who was actually on his side. So he had never mentioned his work problems- let alone any of his other problems- to her again.

Rishid and Ishizu were his siblings, and he loved them, but it wasn't the same as having friends. And now he had a friend. He had his only friend back- wasn't that what he'd wanted in the first place, on the day at the dig site that now seemed so long ago? Here was someone he could be honest with, someone he could be himself with, someone he could just relax and have fun with on a Friday night over a game of cards. He couldn't remember why he'd been getting angry and irritated with Bakura so often. Wouldn't anyone be happy to have their best friend as their roommate? And maybe this whole train of thought was just due to the alcohol, because he was feeling very happy and content and mellow, and he was feeling good about his housemate, and he sort of wanted to laugh, even though nothing was funny-

"Marik? You're staring." Bakura was looking at him questioningly, eyebrows raised.

Marik had a vague notion that he had, in fact, been staring- actually, he was pretty sure that he'd randomly ceased talking right in the middle of some speech about his job, and had just been looking dizzily at Bakura ever since.

Wait, he was still staring- he needed to answer Bakura's accusation.

"I- I am not!" It sounded too defensive, but it was all Marik's confused brain could come up with in that moment.

"Yes, you are," Bakura said calmly. "In fact, I remember that look- I got it a lot from you back in Battle City."

"Well- it's- it's-" Marik took a moment to think back, and then suddenly had an inspiration for a retort. "It's not as if you never stared at me! You looked at me exactly the same way back then!"

Marik had expected some kind of strong reaction to his claim, but Bakura seemed completely unperturbed. "Yes, well, you were a bit more interesting to look at back then," was all Bakura said.

Wait- interesting to look at? Marik's eyes widened. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"Look at the way you dress now," said Bakura with a sly smile. He looked like he was barely suppressing laughter. "I've been trapped in a Ring for most of the last 3,000 years, and even _I_ know that outfit looks stupid. I mean, what _is_ that thing you're wearing? Some kind of sleeveless motorcycle jacket? And a _teal_ shirt underneath it? You look like a gay biker. Well, you _are_ a gay biker, but still-"

"Hey!"

"Not that you ever dressed normally. A purple belly shirt was certainly an odd choice. But it made you a lot nicer to look at than you are right now."

"Oh, like you're one to talk about fashion," Marik grumbled. "You can steal any clothes you want, and you still just dress in jeans and a plain T-shirt every day."

"It's called dressing like a normal human male, Marik," Bakura said, still smiling.

And it was only then that what Bakura had said moments ago penetrated Marik's swimming, disoriented mind. Bakura had actually admitted that he _liked_ looking at Marik back in Battle City. Suddenly Marik had no desire to continue a silly argument about their sartorial choices.

"So," Bakura suddenly said, snapping Marik out of his thoughts. "Are we going to duel tonight or not?"

"Oh, um, sure, I guess," said Marik.

They set up the duel and Marik idly watched as Bakura picked up his first card and placed a monster facedown in defense mode.

There was something fuzzy in the back of Marik's head, as though it was entirely filled with cotton. His thoughts were muddled. He could have said anything right now- done anything, even- and he wouldn't have been able to stop himself.

Bakura's face was flushed, too. Just slightly. His eyes were focused and warm brown, as though the alcohol had softened his face. Marik unconsciously licked his bottom lip as he watched.

He couldn't deny it to himself. Abstractly, in a way that he couldn't quite grasp or understand, he wanted Bakura. He wanted him completely, but not exactly in a romantic way. He'd never done anything remotely sexual with anyone in his entire life, but he could only imagine it: Bakura, undressed and flushed and kneeling in front of him...and...and doing what?

Marik's gaze landed on Bakura's lips.

Of course. Marik remembered his Rare Hunter days, when he'd had a person's mind in his grasp and twisted their body to his own purpose. Even now, he still hungered for control. This was a little different, though. He wanted Bakura to be willing. He wanted Bakura to readily kneel down, languorously unzip Marik's pants, and put his mouth around-

Bakura snapped his fingers suddenly. "Marik? Are you asleep? It's your turn."

Marik looked down and realized that nothing had happened since Bakura's first move. Still, he wasn't quite done with his daydream. "You know, I'm getting kind of bored with this game," Marik said, trying to find the best way to pose his question. "Why don't we make this more interesting?"

"How, exactly?"

"I was thinking we should raise the stakes a little," Marik continued. "You know, make it more worthwhile for whoever wins."

Bakura eyed him carefully. "Okay. What did you have in mind?"

Marik smiled. "How about the winner of this game gets a blowjob from the loser?"

Marik was met with complete silence. He fully expected Bakura to give him an incredulous look and say _no_ outright. But Bakura's mouth slowly widened into a smile as his eyes gleamed.

"Alright," he said, smirking. "If that's what you want."

"Don't give me that look. You think you'll win?" Marik scoffed. "You're forgetting that _I_ won the last game."

Bakura just continued smiling.

Marik had no fear of losing. He had proved himself last night, so the odds of winning were in his favor. As they began dueling, the image he'd created of Bakura rolled around his head over and over. He savored the imagined feeling of Bakura's warm tongue on his skin and trembled at the thought of Bakura's fingers digging into his hips. The craving nearly winded Marik, as he sat with his hands clenched tightly around his cards and waited.

Ten minutes later, Bakura drawled, "You lose 3,400 life points."

Marik nearly jumped out of his seat. "No way! That damned ladybug of yours only has 800 attack points and the witch only has 1,100! Your assailant has-" he paused as he tried to calculate the attack points of the Gravekeeper's Assailant, which had extra points because of the magic card Necrovalley. The numbers swam in his head. He was dizzy beyond belief.

"My assailant has 1,500, so altogether that makes 3,400," Bakura finished. "You have no monsters on the field and no counterattacks, so I can attack you directly. The math works out, Marik. Now sit back down and make your move."

"Fuck," was all Marik could reply.

Marik was now at 3,550 life points while Bakura had an incredible 8,200 because the Dancing Fairy had given him extra life points earlier. Marik picked up his next card and groaned. It was another Darkfire Soldier #1. Pitted against Bakura's three monsters, it hardly had an effect.

A few turns later, Marik was ready to tear his hair out. He tensely watched Bakura's every move, looking for a mistake in the calculations or the strategy, but he found none. His points fell steadily while Bakura's hardly dwindled. Once, Marik outright slammed his fist into the table after attacking Bakura's facedown monster and realizing that Gravekeeper's Spy had a higher defense than Marik's Darkfire Soldier, causing Marik to lose another 800 life points.

Finally, what seemed like a torturous amount of time later, Marik was at 1,750 life points while Bakura was at 7,900. Marik's jaw was clenched tightly, but he thought he could still turn it around. He had Hayabusa Knight and the Malevolent Nuzzler on the field, which afforded the Knight 1,700 attack points. Since Hayabusa Knight could attack twice in the same turn, Marik dared to smile at Bakura across the table.

"So what will you attack with?" Bakura asked, folding his arms.

"La Jinn," Marik replied. "I attack your Gravekeeper's Spy. Since my monster has 1,800 attack points and yours has 1,700 because of Necrovalley, you lose 100 life points," Marik finished smugly.

"Wrong," Bakura said.

"Why?"

Bakura flipped up the trap card Deal of Phantom. "This card lets me add an extra 100 attack points to the Gravekeeper's Spy for every monster in my graveyard."

Marik's smile fell.

"And I have seven," Bakura finished.

He placed Marik's La Jinn into the graveyard and deducted 600 life points from Marik's score sheet. Something broke through Marik's fuzzy, cotton-like thoughts. It was a strange combination of disappointment and dread.

"And since it's my turn now, I flip up my facedown defense monster, Gravekeeper's Guard, activating its flip effect. This lets me return the Mask of Darkness back to your hand," Bakura said. "And then I attack your Hayabusa Knight with my Gravekeeper's Spy, which now has 1,700 attack points. Since they have the same amount of attack points, they just destroy each other."

There were no monsters on Marik's side of the field and again, he had no counterattack, allowing Bakura to deliver the final blow.

"I attack you directly for 1,500 points with Gravekeeper's Guard."

Marik's heart nearly stopped at seeing the zero on his side of the score sheet.

"See?" Bakura smiled at him. "You only won last time because of luck."

Marik couldn't say anything for a moment. He stood up from the table slowly, walking around it in a complete daze.

"Where are you going?" Bakura asked. "Are you backing out of our bet?"

"I-" Marik started, feeling his tongue grow heavy. "I'll do it. I'm just really tired right now. And still really drunk. How about first thing in the morning?"

Bakura looked at him skeptically. Marik could tell that he didn't believe him.

"Fine," Bakura replied, breaking their gaze. "I'm counting on it."

When Marik went to bed that night, he crushed his face into his pillow, and growled into it as hard as he could. He didn't even care if Bakura heard him from the next room.

Well, he only had himself to blame, but he'd really fucked up this time.

* * *

  
Marik awoke with a pounding headache. The backs of his eyelids burned and his throat was parched. He tried to remember what had happened the previous night when everything suddenly came crashing back. The duel. The bet. The...well, Marik didn't exactly want to call it a failure, but 0 to 7,900 was a pretty bad loss.

When he walked into the kitchen, Bakura was already done with breakfast and throwing his dishes into the sink.

"Good morning, beautiful," Bakura teased, eyeing Marik's disheveled hair and the look of repugnance on his face.

Marik said nothing as he made himself breakfast. Bakura sat with him at the table the entire time, reading something he had found folded on the counter top.

After Marik was done, Bakura finally asked, "So? Are you still going to hold up the terms of our bet?"

Inwardly, Marik just thought the word _dammit_ over and over again. He had half hoped that Bakura would forget the bet. Bakura had been pretty drunk too, but clearly neither of them had been smashed enough to forget.

Finally, he said, "Yes. I'll do it now."

It was awkward trying to figure out where to begin. Bakura sat on the couch in the living room while Marik just stood there for five minutes, fidgeting and looking at everything but Bakura's expectant face. Finally, Bakura just sighed and unzipped his own pants.

The sound of the zipper caused Marik to cringe. It wasn't as if he was completely averse to the act. He was still willing to go through with it because firstly, he'd promised Bakura, and secondly- well, it wasn't like he didn't find Bakura attractive, at the very least.

Then, Bakura's boxers came down, and Marik averted his gaze after looking only for a second.

 _Oh gods, oh gods, oh gods_ was the only thing running through Marik's head as he forced himself to look down. His heart thrummed as he imagined what he'd have to do with that.

"Well?" Bakura asked, after Marik had simply stared for another minute. "What are you waiting for?"

Marik looked away again before he could help himself.

"So, um, how exactly do I do this?" Marik asked.

"Well, you take my cock and then you put it in your mouth..."

"Ugh! I know that!" Marik rolled his eyes. "I mean...look, I don't know exactly how these things are supposed to go. I've never done anything like this before."

Bakura raised an eyebrow. "Never done it on a bet, or never done it at all?"

Marik flushed. "Never done it at all, alright?"

"What, and you think I have?" Bakura asked.

"Well, yeah."

Bakura rolled his eyes. "You do remember that I've spent the last 3,000 years either stuck in a Ring or trying to get revenge, right? So I haven't really had time for this sort of thing." Less sarcastically, he added, "But now I finally get to live my life."

"So living your life consists of agreeing to bets on card games and having me suck your dick?" Marik folded his arms.

Bakura shrugged. "Well, you know, whatever works."

Marik glared at him.

Finally, Marik drew a deep breath. _Just get it over with. Just get it done._ He kneeled down to the floor, keeping his gaze on Bakura's face. A small smile played at the edges of Bakura's lips as he simply sat like a king waiting to be serviced.

Marik bit his lip, shifting his knees on the carpeted floor, and looked straight forward. His mouth went dry. He still felt the headache from his hangover. It pounded like a hammer inside his brain and made it difficult to focus on anything.

First things first. At least Bakura was hard already. Marik guessed it must have been from the anticipation. Though he couldn't imagine anything more apprehensive than the near heart-attack Marik was having now.

Marik lowered his head down. He carefully grasped the loopholes of Bakura's pants and got close enough that he could nearly feel the flesh on his lips. He heard Bakura shift, as though he was impatient with Marik being so slow.

Finally, he opened his mouth, squeezed his eyes shut, and tentatively licked the tip of Bakura's cock. It felt soft and smooth and tasted just a little salty. Marik moved closer and tried to close his mouth around it. He found that difficult. While his lips were completely around the tip, he couldn't imagine swallowing it. It just...wouldn't fit inside his mouth if he tried.

Bakura was quiet, barely reacting to anything Marik did. Hoping to wrench a reaction out of him, Marik experimentally licked the entire tip. His fingers still tightly grasped Bakura's pants while his heart raced.

Bakura still did nothing. Marik would have at least expected a shortness of breath or some quiet huffing, but he heard nothing. He opened his eyes and stared at Bakura's face. Without asking, Marik gave him a look that said, _Am I doing something wrong?_

"Can you...take it deeper?" Bakura asked, looking down at him.

"Ughm," Marik tried to say. _I can try._

He widened his mouth, feeling his jaw pop, and edged closer, slipping Bakura's dick further into his mouth. It slid inside slowly as Marik adjusted to what felt like a folded pair of socks filling his whole mouth. His tongue was pressed between the bottom of his teeth and Bakura's skin. He tried to maneuver it to lick along the smooth flesh.

It dawned on Marik that he would have better control of what he was doing if he grabbed the base of Bakura's cock, which he proceeded to do. Bakura shifted his hips when he felt Marik's hand wrap around him. Then, deciding that he would just experiment until he got something right, Marik started moving. He bobbed his head up and down slowly, while also pumping the skin at the base of Bakura's dick.

He got a better effect this time. Bakura's breath hitched.

Marik increased his tempo slowly. He did whatever felt right. He licked along the sides, sucked on the skin, stroked from the base up. At one point, he breathed on the tip, and to his delight, Bakura shuddered above him.

When one of Bakura's hands slipped into Marik's hair, he nearly jumped ten feet. But he took this as a good sign, and continued. He steadily increased the pace and tried to take it in deeper. The entire length was coated in Marik's saliva at this point, causing a slippery noise every time he moved and sucked. The sound, even to Marik's ears, was an incredible turn-on. He felt Bakura shift his hips and thrust into his mouth very imperceptibly, as though he was resisting completely fucking him.

"Can you-" Bakura started, "-move a little to the left?"

Marik would have smiled if he could. Bakura sounded out of breath. He obliged and gripped the base more tightly, sliding his tongue to the left of Bakura's cock. His knees started hurting and his mouth felt abnormally stretched, but Marik paid no heed to these things. He just hoped that Bakura was getting close.

Marik let himself go. He was going fast now and sucking anything he could get his mouth around. His tongue slipped and slid. The warm, sleek skin twitched once before Marik heard a small sound emerge from Bakura. It was a delicious blend of a groan and a sharp intake of breath.

And then, without warning, Marik felt something shoot into the back of his mouth. That must have been the...oh, it dawned on him quickly enough. He immediately dropped his hand from Bakura's cock and detached his mouth, backing up and spluttering as he stood up.

"Blegh," Marik muttered as he found the nearest trash can and spit into it. "You should have warned me."

"Didn't I?" Bakura asked. He was still sprawled over the couch with his head over the edge of the cushion and his face just barely rosy. Now that Marik was done with the whole thing, he found the sight of Bakura sprawled like that with his pants undone and his dick out incredibly amusing.

"No, you didn't." Marik spit into the trash again for good measure. He felt like the taste in his mouth would never leave him. "Unless you count that weird noise you made right at the end."

"Well, that was your warning," Bakura replied as he finally put his boxers on again and zipped up his pants. "Consider it a compliment that I even made that noise."

Marik took a deep breath. At least that was over with. But he wasn't done just yet- the whole reason he'd suggested this bet was because he wanted Bakura to give him a blowjob, not vice versa.

And he wasn't about to give up on that wish.


	6. Chapter 6

Later that morning, Bakura had settled down in front of the TV and Marik had joined him on the couch, putting distance between them. He wasn’t particularly interested in the TV show, but he didn’t quite know what to do with himself.

He really wanted to start another card game and win the bet this time. But he wasn’t sure how to approach the whole thing, and so he sat quietly, fidgeting and fiddling with worn ends of the couch.

Finally, after lunch, Marik looked at Bakura and arched his eyebrows.

"So? Card game?"

"Are we betting again?" asked Bakura, giving Marik a salacious look.

Marik shrugged and looked down at the table, drawing aimless patterns on its worn wooden surface with his fingers. "If you want."

Bakura laughed. "Are you that eager to suck me off again?"

Marik snapped his head up, clenching his fists without realizing it. "I'm _not_ going to lose this time," he said through gritted teeth.

"If you say so," said Bakura.

Marik suddenly turned and got something out of the refrigerator.

"Here," Marik said, sliding the half-full bottle of Jack over to Bakura. "Do you want a drink?"

"At one in the afternoon?"

"What do you care?" asked Marik. "It's not like you work or anything."

"I guess that's true," said Bakura. "So are you going to have any?"

"No, I _do_ work. Besides, I'm not in the mood right now," said Marik. "I was just offering it to you."

"Marik...are you trying to get me drunk because you think I'll be more likely to lose if I'm plastered and you're not?"

"Well, if you're _so_ great, you should be able to beat me even if you're drunk," said Marik.

This was apparently the correct tactic for Marik to take. Bakura grabbed the bottle and took a drink. "Marik, you are going to feel _really_ stupid when you still lose despite your lame little plan."

Marik said nothing to that, and they each drew five cards and started dueling. This time, Marik was hypersensitive about his every move and thought about his strategy thoroughly before laying down a single card. Every time Bakura drew a card or made a move, he took a shot of Jack, downing shot after shot while Marik remained sober. By the middle of the game, Bakura was already so hammered that he found it hard to concentrate. He blinked at his cards several times as if testing his vision and frowned as though he couldn't figure out what to do next.

As their duel progressed, Marik's smile widened and Bakura's frown deepened. Bakura was losing, and very badly at that. After each monster Marik destroyed, Bakura swore under his breath or sighed or growled to himself. Marik could hardly sympathize since that had happened to him so many times.

Finally, after Marik wrote a giant zero on Bakura's score sheet, Bakura suddenly threw his cards down on the table and stood up abruptly.

"I can't believe this," he snapped. "I can't believe I lost to _you_."

Marik started putting away their cards. "Does this mean you're not going to hold up your end of the deal?"

"Of course I will," Bakura scoffed. "I'm not backing out now. Just-" he looked tired suddenly. "Give me a few hours. I feel like I'm about to pass out."

Bakura really did look tired. In his attempt to prove that he could still win the duel while being drunk out of his mind, he'd really had one too many shots. The least Marik could do was give him time to recover. Besides, Bakura had allowed Marik to fulfill his bargain in the morning, so it was only fair that Marik give him the same consideration.

"Alright, fair enough," Marik replied.

Marik hadn't even finished his sentence before Bakura crashed on the living room couch and was dead to the world.

 

* * *

 

Four hours later, Marik was cooking dinner in the kitchen when Bakura reappeared, looking fresher and livelier than before. In fact, it surprised Marik to find a curious gleam in his eye.

"Did you enjoy your nap?" Marik asked while turning the heat down on the stove.

"I did," was all Bakura said as he approached Marik.

"Good," Marik said shortly. "I'm almost done with dinner, so you're just in time-"

When Marik turned, he found himself face to face with Bakura. A small smile played at the edge of his lips. "So," he started. "I promised I'd give you that blowjob."

Marik flushed at Bakura's directness. "Right. Well, I guess it can wait until after dinner."

Bakura drew closer to him. "I think now is as good a time as any."

Marik locked gazes with Bakura. Something fiery rushed to the bottom of his stomach as Bakura eyed him. "Okay," he finally said. "If you want to."

Marik couldn't even process what happened next. Bakura's hands were on his pants one second and the next, he'd yanked down both his pants and his boxers and was taking out his dick. Bakura lowered himself to the floor, where he kneeled on the threadbare rug beside the sink.

Marik gasped once Bakura's mouth was around him and he'd started sucking without a moment's notice. Bakura swirled his tongue around every part of Marik's skin. He took him in completely, wrapping his fingers around the base with one hand and clutching Marik's pants with the other. He moved his mouth with just the right amount of pressure and speed, not giving Marik a single moment to adjust to wave after wave of pleasure.

Leaning against the counter top, Marik gripped the edges so hard it was painful, as though afraid he'd just fall in a mess on the floor if he didn't hold on to something. It was all he could do not to throw his head back and moan and just let Bakura do whatever he wanted with his body.

Instead, Marik just grasped the counter top and watched Bakura intently.

He observed the hard edge in Bakura's face and his wild, white hair. Marik reflected on the fact that he didn't look like Ryou. Even though he had the same brown eyes and white hair, Marik had brought him back in that distinctly _Bakura_ form, with his spiky, untamed hair and a certain meanness in his face that Ryou had never had. This was how Marik had seen Bakura when he'd inhabited his mind during Battle City, and he'd subconsciously brought him back looking the same way.

That thought, and the constant slide and slip of Bakura's tongue on his flesh caused Marik to suddenly throw his head back, finally allowing Bakura full reign over his reactions. Bakura's pace increased. He was now doing ungodly things to the tip of his cock. Marik's breath came in short huffs as his blood rushed fast and his heart beat quickly.

Bakura felt rather than saw Marik's reaction and smiled. He'd simply done what had felt right, and was pleased to see that that's all it had taken to reduce Marik to a half-moaning mess. He wasn't even bothered at all with giving the blowjob, even though he'd never done this before. He'd been angry about losing the duel, briefly, but after waking up from his nap, he'd simply marched into the kitchen with a calm and clear mind, bent on fulfilling his promise.

And he was glad to see that he was fulfilling it well.

After a particularly smooth stroke and slippery swirl of his tongue, Marik suddenly groaned and Bakura felt something shoot into his mouth. He looked up and saw the dazed expression on Marik's face.

Bakura let go immediately and stepped back, and then spit out the come directly onto the rug they were standing on.

"Why-" Marik started, still catching his breath. "Why did you spit on my carpet? The sink is _right there_."

"Well, you didn't give me a warning," Bakura replied.

Marik glared but said nothing as he slipped his boxers and pants back on as Bakura watched him.

"What?" Marik said, wondering why Bakura was giving him a smug look.

"You look like you enjoyed that."

Marik blushed. "Well- it wasn't bad."

"Right," Bakura laughed. "I guess it's not hard to do it right if you're not scared about it."

Marik remembered his own experience earlier that morning with giving a blowjob. He had to admit that Bakura had been very efficient about the whole thing. He hadn't even batted an eye at the idea of what he'd had to do. And he'd done it...very well.

Finally, not quite meaning it, Marik just said, "Shut up," and went back to cooking dinner.

 

* * *

 

The next day was Sunday, and it passed by uneventfully until after dinner, when there was a knock at the door.

At the sound of the knock, Marik practically leaped up from his chair.

"Bakura!" he hissed. "Go into my room and stay there until I tell you to come out!"

"What? Why?"

"Because that's probably my sister! Just go!"

Bakura shrugged and got up. Marik shifted on his feet as Bakura seemed to take his time sauntering back to the bedroom. The knocking came again.

Once Bakura was out of sight, Marik opened the door, silently praying that Bakura would know enough to keep quiet and to stay put.

"Marik! How are you?" said Ishizu, as she stood on the door step.

"I'm fine! Come in! How are you?"

Marik spoke too quickly and loudly, and Ishizu clearly noticed it, giving him a curious look as she walked into the apartment and took a seat at the table.

"Are you alright, Marik? You seem...nervous."

"No, no, I'm not, I'm..." Marik paused for a moment as he had an idea. "Actually, yes, I'm sort of nervous about the tournament."

Marik shut the door and went to sit down at the table across from Ishizu. He reminded himself to breathe. This was just a normal visit from his sister. She often came over to make small talk and see how he was doing. There was nothing to worry about. No reason why she would suspect anything.

"Tournament?" asked Ishizu.

"Yes, I entered the Duel Monsters tournament. The one that just started recently."

"That's wonderful, Marik," said Ishizu, smiling. "Yes, I believe I heard about that tournament. I'm so glad you're finally getting out and doing something besides going to work and school."

Marik gave her a strained smile. "Yes, it will be...interesting."

"So, have you begun dueling yet?"

"I...yes," said Marik, wishing that he'd never brought this topic up at all. Now he was going to have to lie. "I've already won one Token. And of course, they give you one when you sign up, so now I have two."

"It sounds as if you're already doing well," said Ishizu. "Try not to be so nervous."

"Thanks, I'll try," said Marik, feeling a surge of guilt.

Ishizu smiled serenely at him, and Marik groped for something else to say. Talking to his sister wasn't normally awkward like this. He hoped she didn't notice anything terribly amiss, and that she'd just chalk it up to his explanation of being nervous about the tournament. Marik shifted in his seat.

"How have you been?" he finally said.

"I've been fine," Ishizu said. "I have something to ask you, though."

"Yes?" Marik said, swallowing hard. She couldn't be suspicious, could she?

"I was wondering if you'd be able to work a double shift this week," Ishizu said.

The feeling of relief that washed over Marik took all of his attention for a moment. Then he comprehended what Ishizu had said. "A double shift? All week?"

"Yes, I'm afraid the man who normally works second shift at the gift shop has suddenly taken ill," Ishizu said. "Don't worry, he's going to be fine. But he'll be unable to come back to work until next week."

"Well, I..." Marik started. "I'm kind of busy with this tournament, and everything..."

He really didn't want to work an extra shift at his hated job. He had enough to do already. Besides, it would mean leaving Bakura alone in the house for sixteen hours a day all week. He really couldn't tell Ishizu any of that, though.

"I know, Marik, but it would make such a good impression on everyone at the museum if you would agree to do this," said Ishizu. "And I know you could use the money."

Marik drummed his fingers on the table. What Ishizu had said was true. He could use the money. And he _did_ want to make a good impression on people. Wasn't that the entire reason he was doing all of this in the first place, with the tournament? So that people would respect him? It would look bad if he refused to cover the extra shift for a sick coworker because of his own selfish reasons.

"Alright, I can do it," Marik said, attempting to sound cheerful.

"Thank you, Marik. I'm sure everyone at the museum will appreciate it."

Marik had his doubts about that, but he smiled and nodded anyway.

Marik normally enjoyed his sister's visits, but trying to keep himself composed was becoming more torturous by the minute. He needed to find a way to end this that wouldn't seem strange. Finally he thought of something. "Ishizu, I know we usually visit for longer, but if I'm going to be working so much next week, I think I need to rest up."

"Of course, Marik. I understand. Thank you again," Ishizu said, getting up from her seat.

Marik went to the door and opened it for her. "I'll see you later," Marik said.

Ishizu waved as she headed out the door and down the stairs. Marik shut the door and breathed a sigh of relief.

When Marik was sure it was safe, he called Bakura.

"Alright, she's gone!"

Bakura was back in the kitchen in an instant.

"Why were you talking to your sister in that stupid fake voice that you used in Battle City when you were pretending to be Namu?" asked Bakura.

"Oh, I...that's just how I've talked to everybody since I became good," explained Marik.

"So you talk in a fake voice _all_ the time? To everybody?" asked Bakura incredulously.

"Well, everyone but you," said Marik.

"You're kind of a loser, you know that?" Bakura laughed.

"Oh, shut up, Bakura," snapped Marik. "Anyway, what were you doing? Listening to our whole conversation?"

Bakura shrugged. "What else did I have to do?"

"Then I suppose you know I'll be working sixteen hours a day every day this week," Marik said.

"Yes, that's just _great_ ," said Bakura. "What the hell am I supposed to do all day?"

"I don't know, steal some more Tokens for me? Watch TV? Use the computer?" Marik suggested. "Hell, it's not my job to entertain you."

Bakura looked like he was about make another incendiary comment, but Marik cut him off before he could get a word out. "Look, I can't deal with this right now. I'm going to take a shower and then go to bed."

"It's eight o'clock!"

"Yeah, well, I have a busy week ahead of me," Marik said irritably.

Marik walked out of the room, leaving Bakura standing by himself in the kitchen.


	7. Chapter 7

The entire next week passed by in an exhausting frenzy. Marik came home late day after day, throwing his shoes into a corner of the entry way, marching into the kitchen and slamming a skillet on the stove to cook the first thing he could find in the fridge, and finally falling into bed for what seemed more like a short nap than satisfying sleep. He and Bakura still played Duel Monsters at night, after dinner, but Marik had said no to bets for this week. He was too worn out without that extra complication, but he agreed that on the weekend, they could bet again.

During his work breaks, he constantly rearranged his deck. He got rid of cards he felt were useless and added in new, powerful ones. He strategized and weighed the effect of each card, imagining how he might play it during a duel, and then later that night, he tried new strategies on Bakura. After the third night, he wasn't imagining it. He was actually getting better at dueling this way. He even managed to beat Bakura one night, though the duel had been very close.

Finally, it was Saturday night, and Marik couldn't deny that he was feeling a little antsy. He assumed that they would just play for a blowjob like last week, when suddenly Bakura slammed something down on the table and smirked at him.

"Let's raise the stakes," he said.

Marik examined the bottle curiously. When he caught sight of the label, he spluttered.

"Lube?" Marik asked, too shocked to speak properly. "Where the hell did you get that?"

"I stole it, of course." Bakura folded his arms. "But don't worry, I was very careful. What do you say to changing the bet?"

Marik wasn't sure what to say. "Are you- what are you implying here? What's the new bet?"

"Isn't it obvious?" Bakura sat down at the table and started shuffling his deck. "Whoever loses gets fucked."

Marik's throat went dry. As tempting as the idea of fucking Bakura was- even a week later, he still warmed at the image of Bakura with his mouth around him, gripping his pants, expertly swirling his tongue- there was the distinct possibility that _Marik_ could lose. And he would really hate that. A blowjob was one thing; although the loser had to give head, he still maintained control of the situation. He could use his mouth, his tongue, his hands to control the rhythm and the response. But fucking...if Marik lost this bet, he would have to totally give himself over to Bakura. It was an unpleasant thought. On the other hand, if Marik won this bet and got to fuck Bakura, he would be in complete control of him. He would dominate him completely. And that idea was appealing enough to make Marik want to take the chance. Still, though, he wanted a way to make sure he would win.

Bakura sat quietly, looking at Marik, waiting for his decision.

"Okay," Marik finally said. "But on one condition. You'll have to let me use a handicap."

"A handicap?"

Marik nodded. He'd been re-creating and testing his deck all week, but he still didn't entirely feel ready. A handicap, however, was the perfect solution.

"Instead of starting with only 8,000 life points, let me start with...12,000."

"Hell no!" Bakura snapped. "Are you trying to make sure that _I_ lose?"

"Well, yes, of course," Marik scoffed, but then continued more seriously, "But you want a fair game, right? I think I'll have a better chance if you give me some extra points."

Bakura glanced at Marik, seeing the hesitation plainly written on his face. He had to admit- albeit, only to himself- that Marik had gotten better over the week. He had managed to surprise Bakura with good moves and strategies a few times and had even made him lose once. But he still wasn't that great. With the handicap, Marik could conceivably win, but Bakura really doubted that, especially if he only gave him a few thousand extra points.

"Alright," Bakura conceded. "I guess it'll make things more interesting. I'll give you 9,500 life points."

"How about 10,000?" Marik bargained, and then hastily added, "Whenever I lose to you, I lose by more than 3,000 points, so I think an extra 2,000 is fair."

Bakura considered this, and finally relented. "Fine, you'll start with 10,000. Now, draw your cards."

They each drew five cards and started the duel. Marik was bright and alert, hesitating and thinking each move through before making it. Since he wasn't drinking this time, he was completely focused, and knew that Bakura was the same. After all, the wrong move would cost either of them the game.

For a while, they were evenly matched, and Marik held a bated breath every time he attacked a facedown monster or watched Bakura draw a new card and smile, fearing the worst. As their life points dwindled, Marik's pulse quickened and his heart knocked loudly in his chest.

"I place Hayabusa Knight onto the field, and equip it with the Malevolent Nuzzler and the Sword of Deep-Seated-" Bakura said, giving Marik a wide smile, "-giving it 2,200 attack points."

Marik glanced down at his own side of the field. His Metal Reflect Slime was still there with 3,000 defense points. It was a trap card with zero attack points but worked magnificently as a shield.

"You don't have enough points to take out my card," Marik said smugly.

Bakura smirked and suddenly threw a Remove Trap onto the field.

"Now I do," he said, his eyes bright and feverish. Since Metal Reflect Slime was technically a trap card, it promptly went into the graveyard, leaving Marik defenseless.

"And you'll recall that Hayabusa Knight can attack twice in one turn, so I attack you directly for 4,400 life points." Bakura's glance fell to Marik's Magic and Trap card side of the field. "Are you going to do anything about it?"

All Marik had was an Acid Trap Hole, which would do nothing for him right about now. "No," he said, gritting his teeth.

He watched as Bakura wrote down the new score. Bakura had 3,200 life points. Marik had 50. He was screwed. He was screwed in the most literal and figurative sense of the word because he didn't have a single damned card in his deck to combat Bakura's overpowered Hayabusa Knight.

Marik drew a card, his hand nearly shaking in anger. He drew Graceful Charity- "Draw 3 cards from your deck, then discard any 2 cards from your hand."

He drew three cards and discarded two. And then, as he laid eyes on the card he now had in his hand, he glanced across the table at Bakura and smiled a slow, cat-like smile. "Consider yourself fucked, Bakura," he said, and threw the card down. "I play Change of Heart."

The color instantly drained out of Bakura's face. Hayabusa Knight belonged to Marik for one turn, and just like that, he wiped out the last of Bakura's life points.

Bakura sat stunned. Marik smiled at him, giving him a moment to take it all in.

"Alright," Marik finally said, glancing toward the doorway. "Why don’t we do this on my bed? It’ll be a lot more comfortable than the couch."

“Now?" Bakura asked, looking apprehensive.

"What’s wrong?” Marik smiled. “Do you want to delay it?"

"No," Bakura said.

"Do you want to back out of our deal?"

"No," Bakura growled and turned toward the doorway. "Forget it. Let’s just get this over with."

The walk across the house seemed to take forever. Marik was afraid that Bakura would overhear the striking, loud beat of his heart as it raced and raced and raced, and that he would notice how Marik’s fingers flexed in agitation and how he kept flicking the hair out of his face.

Once they finally got to the bedroom, Marik shut the door behind them and turned to face Bakura. "So. Um. I guess you'll need to take your clothes off," said Marik.

Bakura looked slightly annoyed at being ordered around, but he did as he was told. He rolled the plain t-shirt over his head, inch by inch revealing a pale, taut abdomen, then stomach, then chest, until he finally threw the shirt to the floor. Marik’s breath hitched at the sight of his upper body; unlike his own, which he considered more physically fit and toned, Bakura’s was lithe and nimble. His skin was the pale color of desert sand reflecting in the bright, afternoon sun.

Marik watched Bakura fixedly as he removed the rest of his clothes. Finally, Bakura stood naked before Marik. "Well, quit staring," Bakura said, crossing his arms. "You'll need to take your clothes off too, you know."

"Right," said Marik, ducking his head and avoiding Bakura's gaze.

Marik took his pants and boxers off, and laid down on the bed. Bakura laid down next to him. Then he rolled over, turning his back to Marik.

"Alright, do it."

Marik was a bit thrown by Bakura's abruptness. He stared at the back of Bakura's head, unsure of exactly how to start.

"Um...I guess I should stretch you out first, then?" asked Marik finally.

"No, screw that," said Bakura irritably. "Don't mess around with touching me. I just want to get this over with as fast as possible. Use a lot of lube, and that will be enough."

"It still seems like I could hurt you."

"Marik, you made me fucking stab myself before, and I dealt with that," said Bakura. "I think I can handle this. So will you just get on with it?"

Marik sighed. "If you say so."

Marik coated himself with the lube, and then he began shifting around, trying to line himself up. It was a strange angle, and he couldn't seem to get it quite right.

"What the hell are you doing?" asked Bakura, obviously getting impatient.

"This is a really awkward angle," Marik admitted. "Can you- can you get on your hands and knees?"

"Are you fucking kidding me?"

"I just think it would be an easier position," said Marik.

"Fine, _whatever_ ," said Bakura. "If only so we can get this finished instead wasting time arguing." Bakura grudgingly got up and positioned himself on his hands and knees, and Marik knelt behind him.

Marik lined himself up again. Alright, this would work better. He placed his hand on Bakura’s thigh for a moment- whether to steady himself on the bed or to feel his skin under his fingertips, he didn’t know— but then felt awkward about the extraneous touch and removed it. From the brief touch, however, he noticed that Bakura's muscles were taut and rigid. "You're really tense."

"Of course I am," snapped Bakura. "Do you think I like the idea of you... _dominating_ me this way?"

Marik had to smile, because that was one of the things he liked so much about this situation. Just Bakura's words about dominating him seemed to go straight to his cock.

Still, though, his nerves were jumping, and his heart was pounding from something more than just excitement.

"It's going to hurt more if you're tense," Marik said. "Are you _sure_ you don't want me to prepare you first? Because I think-"

Bakura snapped his head around and faced Marik. "Marik, I swear, if you don't shut up and just _do it_ , I'm going to call this whole thing off."

" _Fine,_ " said Marik.

And then, with no further warning, he shoved into Bakura as hard as he could.

Bakura didn't make a sound, but Marik could see his face twist in a grimace of pain.

"You still so sure about not wanting preparation?" Marik asked sardonically, pulling all the way out.

"I'm _fine,_ " Bakura said through gritted teeth.

"Alright," said Marik, more irritated now than anything else.

He shoved back in brutally.

He noted with dissatisfaction that Bakura still didn't make a sound, though Marik saw him wince again. He pulled out and shoved back in one more time, not even trying to be gentle. There was no further result, aside from the fact that Bakura's arms were now shaking, as if he found it difficult to hold himself up through the pain.

What he really wanted was to make Bakura break down and admit he'd been wrong about the preparation. But he realized that wasn't going to happen. Bakura would suffer through this, if only to prove a point. He could dominate Bakura physically, but he couldn't truly subjugate him- he couldn't make him lose control.

And the way Bakura's face was scrunched up in pain was absolutely miserable to look at. It was the complete opposite of a turn-on. He didn't want Bakura to hate this- that wasn't what he'd wanted out of this at all.

Marik pulled out.

"Alright, I give up," he said. "I can't do it like this. Your face- you look like I'm killing you. It's awful to look at."

"Then don't look at my face," Bakura said, turning away from Marik.

Marik sighed and moved away from Bakura, flopping down on his back next to him. "Alright, you win," he said. "I'm done."

Bakura immediately collapsed onto his stomach. Apparently Marik had been right about him not wanting to hold himself up anymore.

Bakura turned his head and faced Marik. "Seriously?"

"Yes," said Marik irritably. "I'm not going to fucking torture you. It's not enjoyable for me."

Bakura's face softened a little. "Look, I promised I'd do this. I'm not going to back out. You can- you can do whatever you want. After all, you did win the game."

"Are you sure?" asked Marik, raising his eyebrows.

"Yeah, whatever," Bakura grumbled.

Marik felt himself relax a little. "So are you sore?" asked Marik.

"A little," Bakura said. "You weren't in that long, and you _did_ you use lube. I'll be fine in a few minutes."

"Alright," said Marik. "So, how _was_ that in comparison to stabbing yourself?"

Bakura actually laughed. "Different," he said. "I stabbed myself so quickly I barely felt it- it was a sharp pain, and not long after I just passed out. This was more like a burning pain that just went on."

"Sorry," Marik said sheepishly.

"It's fine now," said Bakura. "By the way, it's weird that you didn't bother taking your shirt off."

"Well, you know, I don't really like having it off in front of other people," Marik said, looking uncomfortable.

"Oh. Your scars."

"Yeah," Marik said. "Anyway, are you ready?"

"Go ahead," said Bakura.

Marik moved to straddle Bakura. Bakura remained lying on his stomach, which Marik figured was fine. He grabbed the bottle of lube and squeezed some into his hand. Then he slid a single cold, slippery finger into Bakura.

This time, he saw no pain register on Bakura's face. He moved his finger in and out slowly, and eventually added a second. Bakura still didn't seem uncomfortable. He bent his fingers, trying to stretch him out more. As he moved his bent fingers out, he felt the pad of his finger brush over a small bump. Bakura gasped sharply. He did it again, and heard Bakura pull in a shaky breath.

"Oh, gods," Bakura breathed.

"Good?" asked Marik quietly.

"That- that hurts," Bakura said, voice strained. "Do what you were doing before."

Marik was skeptical, but he shrugged and straightened his fingers. He moved his two fingers in and out, and eventually added a third. He placed his free hand on Bakura's hip again momentarily. He seemed relaxed now.

"Alright, can I start?"

Bakura nodded.

Marik removed his fingers and lowered himself. He slid into Bakura, this time going slowly, giving him time to adjust. He sensed no discomfort from Bakura this time. Eventually, he was all the way in, and he paused. He hadn't had a chance to really enjoy it before, but now, being completely inside Bakura was- it was- there were no words. Amazing didn't even cover it.

“What the fuck are you waiting for now?” Bakura snapped suddenly, after Marik had been still for several seconds. "I _do_ still want you to get this over with, you know."

"Sorry," laughed Marik, feeling better now and too distracted by the sensation around his cock to be bothered by Bakura's waspish tone.

Marik slid out slowly, and then pushed in again. He went slowly for a little while, but Bakura was warm and tight around him and it was breathtaking, and soon it felt like every nerve in his body was on fire, and every instinct was telling him to go faster and harder. He had never felt anything quite like this before- a craving in his veins and in his bones that transcended the flesh, somehow. And the fact that it was Bakura that he was fucking made him slam in more passionately as he sped up.

He soon lost himself to it, barely able to think anymore as he slammed in and out. And then his whole body was tingling and he felt his blood rush down and his muscles went rigid as he let go, moaning as he exploded in orgasm.

Marik pulled out and collapsed on the bed. He closed his eyes in satisfaction, a feeling of warmth spreading inside him.

Marik rested for a moment. When he opened his eyes and turned to look, he saw that Bakura had already gotten up and put his pants back on.

Marik could only look at him happily through half-lidded eyes.

Bakura scoffed at the look of satisfaction on Marik's face. "Next time, it will be _you_ who gets fucked," Bakura growled.

"Don't count on it," Marik said, smiling at him.

Bakura threw him a disgusted look and strode out of the bedroom, slamming the door behind him. Marik only closed his eyes again.

 

* * *

  
The next day passed uneventfully. Marik liked to relax and laze around the house on Sundays, in preparation for his busy work week, so not many words were exchanged between him and Bakura over the perpetual drone of the TV.

After dinner, they laid out their cards again and prepared to play.

"Want to bet again?" Bakura asked. His face was a strange mix of sourness from the result of their last game and a feverish eagerness from thinking he could win this next one.

"Okay, if you'll let me have the handicap again," Marik said.

"Hell no," Bakura snapped. "I'm not giving you that leverage anymore. You clearly proved that you're doing just fine on your own."

Marik hesitated. He _could_ win without the handicap. He'd done it before, after all. But the 2,000 points he'd gained from the previous night's handicap had allowed him to win that game. As much as he wanted to bet again- and win, of course- he couldn't push his luck or his skills. He needed more time.

"Then no," Marik stated. "I don't want to bet."

Bakura gave him a tart look. "Oh, so now you're only going to bet when it's most convenient for you? Fuck that—"

"How about we just don't bet again for another week?" Marik asked. When Bakura looked to protest, Marik continued. "We'll bet again next weekend _and_ without the handicap. So it'll be totally fair. My skills against yours."

Bakura gave him a long look. It was clear that they would both do anything to win the game, given the stakes. And he could see that Marik needed more time to get better. That's what this whole thing was about, after all, making sure that Marik was a great enough duelist to win the tournament. And if that meant another week of no bets and of Marik coming home and testing new strategies on him, then Bakura would just have to settle for that.

"Fine," Bakura finally replied, and started shuffling his cards. "No bets for this week. And we're taking out the handicap."

Marik drew his cards, deep in thought. He _had_ to get better now. He only had a week to work through all the flaws in his deck and win without the 2,000-point cushion. He had no other choice, no other way to twist the rules or the game in his favor.

After all, he smiled to himself wryly, it was quite literally his ass on the line here.


	8. Chapter 8

A few ashes fell on the collar of Bakura's coat as he breathed in deeply, waiting for the smoke to fill his lungs before he exhaled again. He stood under a dim streetlight with one hand in his pocket and the other pulling the cigarette from his mouth. He betrayed neither darting looks nor fidgeting fingers, but his insides were in knots. He had been out on the streets of Luxor for a few hours already, but he'd still had no luck.

He couldn't concentrate. He'd approached a few duelists already, but the moment he'd been within reach, his instincts had taken over, warning him, pushing him back, and holding him rooted to the sidewalk before he could slip his hand into a stranger's pocket. He knew from past experience that this restless mindset was detrimental to stealing. He needed complete focus. He needed a blank, clear mind, but his thoughts were scattered, thinking back to either last weekend, or anticipating the next duel when he and Marik would bet. Which would be on Saturday.

Tomorrow.

Bakura took a short breath and threw his cigarette on the ground before he could finish it. He set out at a slow pace down the sidewalk, keeping his face hidden. He'd stuffed his hair into a baseball cap, which sat backward with its strap digging into his forehead. The last thing he wanted was for someone to notice that a pale man with long, bright white hair was stealing tokens during the preliminaries, and the cap was the only thing he could think to camouflage himself a little.

He kept both hands in his pockets and his head down. In the right coat pocket, his hand curled around a smooth, metallic object. Marik had worn his coat the other day, throwing it on before rushing out the door, and Bakura noticed that he'd left something in it.

A gold bracelet, though from earlier inspection, he'd realized that the gold was fake. So merely a trinket, but a very convincing one at that. And since Marik only preferred the most glimmering and sparkling gold he could find, Bakura surmised that it was of no use to either of them.

"...but tell me, how much? I would feel so bad if you spent your whole paycheck on it!"

Bakura glanced up. A couple was walking down the sidewalk toward him, the young woman clasping the man's arm as he smiled down at her, and she looked up. Their voices faded in and out as Bakura slowed and listened.

"Don't worry, I didn't," he laughed. "I bought that and saved the rest. Besides, I'll be working longer hours next week..."

The girl smiled. As they walked closer, Bakura noticed several things at once. The couple was very young. The man was enraptured; he stared down at the girl more often than he looked where he walked. The girl wore a set of gold earrings, a jade necklace, and a sparkling ring that she frequently eyed. Lastly, the man had a duel disk on his left arm.

A duelist.

Suddenly, Bakura smiled to himself. The night was looking better already. He changed his demeanor abruptly, straightening up, pulling both hands out of his pockets, and plastering an apprehensive look on his face.

"Excuse me, sir," he said as the couple approached him.

The young man glanced at him sharply, as though just now realizing that someone else was sharing the sidewalk with them. "Yes?"

"I have a, uh, bit of a favor to ask," Bakura said. As he bit his lip, the girl stared at him curiously, while the man looked impatient.

"I don't know how much I can help you," the man started. "I'm in a hurry to get to a duel."

"That's actually what I wanted to ask about," Bakura continued, smiling slightly. "You see, I just started in the tournament this week. And I lost my first duel, so I lost my only token."

The man's mouth formed a thin line. "Look, if you're asking me for my token, you can forget it-"

"No, it's not that!" Bakura hastened to say, his voice jumping an octave. "I mean, not exactly. It's just that...well, I really need to stay in the tournament. I'm practicing to get better and start winning duels, but I can't duel again without a token. And, well, you look like you've been winning a lot of duels-" Bakura hazarded a guess, and was pleased to see the man's mouth twitch in a small smile, "so I was hoping that you might, uh, exchange one of your tokens for something of mine."

The man's eyes narrowed, and he opened his mouth to reply, but the girl beat him to it.

"What, exactly?" she asked, her eyes wide and bright blue as she peered at Bakura. The way her face looked was unnerving; it made Bakura feel as though he was staring into two bottomless pools of water.

"This," Bakura replied, pulling the bracelet out of his pocket. "It's made of pure gold."

"No, I don't think so-" the man started.

"That's beautiful!" the girl exclaimed at the same time. She turned her wide, bright stare on the man. "Oh, get it for me, please. It's just one token, and you've already gotten so many."

The man frowned. "I don't think I can afford to lose any of my tokens right now. I've almost gotten enough to get into the finals, and it would be a pain to get one again."

"You'll just have to bet two next time," the girl reasoned. "Besides, you _do_ win _all the time._ It'll be no problem for you at all!"

A small smile worked its way onto the man's face. He stared at the girl for another moment, before turning back to Bakura with an outstretched hand.

"You have a deal, then. Let me have the bracelet."

"Alright, for one token."

Then, Bakura remembered himself and hastily handed the bracelet to the man. He ran his fingers over the metal, inspecting the reflective surface. Bakura watched as it caught the streetlight, glinting at all three of them.

The man handed the girl the bracelet and worked something out of his pocket before handing it to Bakura.

"Enjoy," he said, before turning from him. "And good luck in the tournament."

Bakura doubted the man meant that, but he was engrossed in the little token sitting in the palm of his hand, its blue surface reflecting back to him as brightly as the bracelet. He breathed a sigh of relief, stuffed the token deep into his pocket, and chuckled, silently thanking Marik for being so forgetful sometimes.

 

* * *

  
When Bakura walked in the door, he noticed a pair of black shoes by the threadbare rug at the front door and a leather coat hanging from the coat rack. He followed the smell of onions and rice to the kitchen, where Marik was stirring a pot of what looked like koshari. Bakura had noticed that he always cooked it after he visited his brother and sister, almost as a reminder of the life he'd once lived with them.

"How are Rishid and Ishizu?" Bakura asked, throwing his coat on the back of a chair.

Marik shrugged, leaning down to smell the contents of the pot. "Good. Same as always. I just hung out with them for a couple of hours to catch up. I told them about how I'm getting tokens for the tournament finals."

Bakura quirked an eyebrow. "Oh, really? What did you say, exactly?"

"I wasn't too specific," Marik laughed. "I just said I'm preparing for the finals and dueling in my spare time."

"True enough," Bakura smirked. "Oh, and I have something that'll make your story more credible."

He took the token out of his pocket and set it on the table, producing a small _thump._ Marik turned to look. His eyes lit up at the sight of the token.

"You stole another one?"

Bakura leaned back against the kitchen chair. "Tricked it out of someone, actually. Seems like I still haven't lost my touch at impersonating Ryou."

Marik laughed suddenly as he scooped some koshari onto a plate and set it on the table, and placed a steak in front of Bakura. Momentarily, he was pleased to find that Marik hadn't just made a vegetarian dish for himself, and gave him a smile before he could help himself.

"Hey, so I'm feeling too worn out to duel tonight, so I was just gonna watch a movie," Marik suddenly said as he sat at the table. "Want to watch it after dinner?"

"What movie?" asked Bakura.

"I'm going to watch Saw IV again," said Marik.

"Saw VI is better," said Bakura. "We should watch that one."

Bakura had been watching a lot of movies on his own during the times when Marik was at work and he had nothing else to do.

"You just like Saw VI best because of all the vengeance," Marik said.

"So?"

Marik laughed. "Okay, how about we watch them both?"

Marik didn't mind. He loved all the movies in the Saw series, and he knew that Bakura did too. So they went into the living room and settled themselves on the couch to watch the movies.

After the movies were over, Marik headed off to his room to go to bed, and Bakura settled down on the couch. Even though both of them were very tired, neither of them had an easy time getting to sleep. They were both thinking about the fact that tomorrow was the day they'd be betting again.

 

* * *

  
On Saturday night, they dueled again, and the bet was the same as last week. Loser gets fucked, and it would have been an understatement to say that by the time the scores were at 1,900 life points for Marik and 1,700 life points for Bakura, it was just a little tense in the room.

"Fucking hell!" Marik shouted after he lost all of the monsters on his side of the field to Bakura's Four-Starred Ladybug of Doom, whose flip effect was to destroy all of the opponent's four-starred monsters. He had no monsters left, and no magic or trap cards out on the field.

Bakura smirked. He was so close to winning. He could feel the approaching victory in his bones, flowing through his veins, invigorating and intoxicating him like a shot of Jack Daniels. As usual, they'd had no alcohol while dueling because it would just cloud their minds, and after waiting for a whole week for this rematch of sorts- Bakura quietly writhing and itching to finally have his fingers on Marik's hips and actually be inside him- neither could afford to be drunk.

He watched Marik closely, eyeing the color in his flushed cheeks and the spark in his eyes. By the look on his face, he had no idea what to do. The duel had been neck and neck the entire time, and Bakura couldn't deny that seeing the exasperated, rosy look on Marik's face was arousing. Still, he could tell that Marik had exhausted his best cards and was at the end of his rope, while Bakura still had a few strategies left. A few more turns, and then _Marik_ would know what it felt like to be subjugated, to be had in the same way he'd had Bakura last week.

"I end my turn," Marik said, clutching his cards so hard that his bronze knuckles had turned white.

Bakura smiled. "You didn't even play anything. Are you really getting that desperate that you don't have a single monster to put on the field? Or even a trap card?"

"Just draw your fucking card," he snapped.

Bakura couldn't help the wide smile on his face. He threw Monster Reborn on the field and raised a monster Marik had played earlier: Starshot Raptor with 1800 attack points. Its effect also allowed Bakura to select an Equip Spell card that he could use next turn, and he chose the Malevolent Nuzzler from his deck.

"I attack you for 1,800 life points," Bakura said leisurely, marking the new scores on their sheets. 100 for Marik and 1,700 for Bakura. "Your turn."

Marik drew, and Bakura watched in fidgeting anticipation as Marik's gaze flitted over his cards and he bit his lip. He glanced at the score sheet on Bakura's side of the table, frowning, and then nodded slightly.

"Alright, this can work," he said to himself, wetting his lips. He turned his gaze to Bakura. "I play the Darkfire Soldier #1 in attack mode."

Bakura laughed suddenly. "Are you an idiot? You obviously can't attack me since your monster has less attack points than mine, and if you leave it in attack mode, I'll just destroy it and you'll lose 200 life points. Which would be just enough to make you lose the game."

Marik suddenly smirked. "You didn't let me finish."

With that, Marik threw another two cards on the field: one was Fissure, a card that allowed Marik to destroy Bakura's lowest-attack monster, the Four-Starred Ladybug of Doom, and the other was a card that Bakura had never seen before, the trap card Call of the Grave.

"You can activate this card when your opponent activates Monster Reborn," Marik read the inscription. "Negate the effect of Monster Reborn."

The realization suddenly dawned on Bakura, as his insides froze at the thought. "That means-"

"Your Ladybug of Doom is gone after I use Fissure. Your Starshot Raptor is off the field and you have no other monsters to defend your life points. I attack you for 1,700 points with my Darkfire Soldier, so yes, that means-" Marik's face was flushed and delighted and the look in his eyes was absolutely smoldering. "You lose the game."

Bakura sat still for a moment, trying to take in the abrupt brutality of Marik's last few moves. This couldn't be happening, he thought. He couldn't believe he'd lost a second time. He'd had Marik completely defenseless. His strategy was flawless until Marik had gone and-

Suddenly, Bakura grabbed the Call of the Grave card from Marik's side of the field.

"What the hell is this? I've never even seen this card before," he said, his eyes blazing.

Marik started putting away their cards. "It's a new card I added to my deck recently. I thought it would be way too specific and would barely ever come in useful, but...I guess I was proven wrong." He shot Bakura a sly smile.

"Fuck you," Bakura snapped, and stood up from the table so tersely that the chair scraped against the floor. He was so angry that he was nearly shaking.

Marik laughed. "You'll have to actually start winning our bets if you still have plans for that."

Bakura glared at him and retorted, "Let's just get this over with," before striding out of the room without a backward glance. A moment later, Marik joined him in the bedroom.

 

* * *

  
Things were a little less awkward this time, as they'd already done this once before. But the entire time Bakura was undressing, he continued to gripe and complain about how he couldn't believe he'd lost _again._

Marik just suppressed a laugh as he removed his own jeans and boxers.

Bakura lay down on the bed on his stomach. That position had worked last time, and he figured there was no sense in complicating things.

Marik seemed to agree, and he wordlessly moved to straddle Bakura. This time, Bakura didn't complain when Marik squeezed some lubrication onto his fingers, getting ready to prepare him.

Marik started out the same way he had the last time, first inserting one lube-slicked finger, and then a second. For a while, he just slid his digits in and out. Then he crooked his fingers, as he had last time, and brushed against that small bump inside of Bakura.

Bakura drew in his breath sharply. Then Marik did it again. And again.

It felt strange, strange in a way that made his breath hitch, and Bakura could sense something building inside of him, something he wanted to avert for reasons that he didn't want to consider. He'd told Marik last time that moving his fingers inside him in this way was painful, and he wanted to say something, but the feeling of what Marik was doing to him was overwhelming, and Bakura barely felt able to speak.

"I-I told you before that it hurts when you do that," Bakura finally managed to say.

"But you also told me that you don't mind pain at all," said Marik. It sounded as if there was an undercurrent of laughter in Marik's voice, just barely below the surface. "That you can take it easily, since you've been through much worse pain than this. So I'm sure you don't mind."

"I thought you-" Bakura's voice broke momentarily as Marik repeated the motion- "you didn't want to hurt me."

"Maybe I changed my mind," said Marik, pausing his movement. He sounded thoughtful, but there was still that hint of mirth underneath his words. "Are you telling me that you can't handle it? That it hurts too much and you want me to stop?"

There was absolutely nothing Bakura could say against that, no way for him to tell Marik _no_ and still preserve his pride- if he claimed that it was hurting too much for him to bear, he would seem weak and pathetic. Bakura, being unable to handle a little discomfort?

So he had no choice.

"I-I can take it," Bakura finally said.

Marik smiled, and Bakura sucked in his breath as Marik's fingers grazed against that spot inside of him again.

And then there was nothing Bakura could do but fist his hands into the sheets and try to remain silent as Marik continued.

Marik repeated the motion over and over. Every time, shock waves coursed through Bakura's body, and he told himself that the sensation was uncomfortable, unpleasant. That this definitely felt the exact opposite of good.

But he couldn't ignore the fact that his cock was, for whatever reason, getting hard- maybe just because of all the nakedness and sexual things that were occurring at the moment, which automatically reminded him of what he'd already done with Marik in the past, and what he _could_ do to Marik in the future as soon as he won- but if Marik knew how his body was reacting right then...

The only thing worse than Marik thinking he was too weak to take a little pain would be Marik thinking he was actually _enjoying_ this. As if he could ever enjoy being in such a submissive position with bratty little Marik dominating him. As if Marik were capable of causing reactions in his body that he couldn't control. He _hated_ being in such a vulnerable position, and he only allowed it so that he would eventually have the chance to subjugate Marik and control him completely. Now _that_ thought was a turn-on. But this? All the things he had to put up with because he'd lost their card game? He merely tolerated these things as a means to an end. Marik believing he liked any of this would be- it didn't even bear thinking about. But if he let Marik continue doing that ungodly thing with his fingers, then-

But he didn't have to let him continue, of course. There was something he could say, and he would have thought of it before if these strange, unfamiliar sensations weren't so incredibly distracting. He took a moment to compose himself, to make sure his voice would sound relatively normal when he spoke.

"Alright, that's enough," Bakura said through gritted teeth. "What ever happened to getting this over with as quickly as possible?"

"Of course, of course," said Marik, immediately withdrawing his fingers. "Whatever you say."

Marik began coating himself in lubrication, and the anticipation of Marik's cock being inside of him definitely didn't make Bakura feel anything but apathy- that, and relief that Marik had finally stopped what he'd been doing with his fingers. And maybe he also felt a little apprehension about whether getting fucked would feel different this time, but only because he wondered if it would be uncomfortable- though he could certainly handle it, he didn't particularly relish discomfort.

And then Marik was sliding into Bakura. As before, he started out slowly, moving in and out at an easy pace.

Bakura relaxed. It didn't feel the way his fingers had, and it wasn't uncomfortable at all. The angle of Marik's cock was totally different than the angle of his fingers had been, and Marik's movements were no longer sending those weird jolts through his body. Bakura was still hard, though, and he was only thankful that he was lying on his stomach, a position that made it impossible for Marik to see his erection.

As Marik began to speed up, pounding harder and faster, rocking Bakura's body, Bakura realized the downside of his position. With every thrust, Bakura's body was shoved against the bed, creating a terrible _pleasurable_ feeling against his cock as it slid up and down the sheets. He certainly couldn't blame himself for the fact that it felt good to have his erection rubbed against something, but he didn't want that to happen while Marik was fucking him. Why the hell did Marik have to have some kind of girly sheets that were all smooth and slippery, instead of normal cotton ones?

As Marik continued to move in and out, it took all of Bakura's willpower not to move his own hips in rhythm with Marik in an attempt to grind against the bed and create more pressure on his erection. The feeling of Marik filling him when he was so hard and the sensations against his cock were so good was- it was really awful, and his desire to push back had nothing to do with wanting Marik deeper inside. But if he moved, it would seem like he was urging Marik deeper, as if he was actually participating in this, and so he stayed still, his muscles quivering with the effort of it.

But as Marik's thrusts became even more forceful, Bakura's body was shoved harder against the bed anyway, increasing the friction against his erection, and Bakura realized with dismay that, if this kept up much longer, he might actually climax. And he did _not_ want to come with Marik inside of him. That would just be wrong in every way.

Besides, an erection, he could hide, but if he actually came, the evidence would be obvious the moment he got up.

He could just imagine the smug look on Marik's face. And Marik would never, ever let him hear the end of it.

He hoped Marik would be done soon, but he continued, jarring Bakura's body, Marik fucking him so hard that it was impossible for Bakura to keep his body from being driven into the mattress. It seemed like it was lasting longer than it had the previous time, as if Marik were holding himself back from finishing, and Bakura dug his nails into the pillow and tried desperately not to come. He was _so_ close...

Finally, he heard Marik sigh in satisfaction, and felt warm liquid rush into him. Marik paused for only a second, and then pulled out and rolled off of him.

Bakura immediately slid off the bed, his back to Marik. He quickly put on his jeans and shirt, taking note that his T-shirt was long enough to hide any bulge that might be visible through his pants.

Bakura winced in pain. He'd been seconds away from orgasm. His cock ached, and his balls felt like they were about to burst.

He went to leave the room, but when he looked around, he saw that Marik was already dressed as well. Marik jumped off the bed and stood next to Bakura.

"I think that went pretty well," Marik said cheerfully. "Better than last time. How about you?"

"I survived it," Bakura grumbled, turning away from Marik.

"Just 'survived it'? That's all?" asked Marik, raising his eyebrows.

Unexpectedly, Marik placed a hand on Bakura's hip and started to reach around.

As much as Bakura's cock actually craved Marik's touch right then, there was absolutely no way in hell Bakura was going to let Marik know that he was hard. He grabbed Marik's hand forcefully, stilling his motion.

"I fulfilled my part of our bet," Bakura said, putting as much spite into his voice as he could. "Now it's done. So don't touch me."

Marik pulled his hand away. "Alright, alright. _Sorry._ "

Bakura was about to walk away again when Marik called him back.

"It's still early. We should watch a movie."

"Um..." started Bakura.

"You keep trying to run out of here like you've got a pressing appointment or something. What are you doing, rushing out of here to go jack off?"

Marik's voice was somewhere between sarcastic and teasing, and Bakura managed to keep the look of shock off of his face. That had, in fact, been exactly what he was about to do- he'd been brought to the very edge of orgasm, and he still badly needed release.

"Of course not!" Bakura snapped. "I just..."

But he couldn't come up with anything to say. He didn't think there was much blood going to his brain at the moment.

At least that meant he probably wasn't blushing in his embarrassment at Marik's question.

"Well, _I'm_ going out to the living room to watch a movie," said Marik. "So you might as well come along."

Bakura snarled. He'd been hoping Marik would just stay in his bedroom, as he had last time, so that Bakura could be alone in the living room. Now, after Marik's comment about masturbation, he couldn't even run off to the bathroom without it looking suspicious. Damn Marik. Damn that stupid boy.

So Bakura begrudgingly followed Marik out to the living room and sat at the end of the couch, putting as much distance between himself and Marik as possible. Marik chose the movie, but Bakura had no idea what it was. All he remembered was spending a torturous hour and a half squirming and fidgeting and suffering from the worst case of blue balls he'd ever had in his existence.


	9. Chapter 9

It was Sunday night. Dinner was done, the plates, knives, and forks had been thrown into the dishwasher, and the setting sun peeked into the kitchen through a tattered curtain, winking against the plastic coverings of the Duel Monsters cards scattered all over the table.

"Go," Bakura said, unblinking. For the past half-hour, he had hardly moved a muscle, making only minimal movements to grab his cards and throw them onto the field. His face was so rigid that Marik was afraid it would crack if he actually smiled.

Marik threw Gravekeeper’s Jackal Guard on the field, and watched Bakura’s face turn even more stone-like. Marik had the spell card Necrovalley on his side of the field, which increased all Gravekeeper monsters’ attack and defense points by 500, giving his Jackal Guard 2,000 attack points. Bakura merely had the monster Sangan out on the field, with only 1,000 attack points, and they were not so evenly matched this time. Marik had 3,200 life points, while Bakura only had 1,500.

"You look so uptight," Marik remarked, smiling. "I wonder if it’s because you’re preparing yourself for what will be your fourth loss in a row." His smile turned cat-like. "And what comes after that."

Bakura didn’t even bother addressing that statement.

"I assume you’re attacking me for 1,000 life points?" he asked, not looking up as he wrote in their new scores.

"Yes," Marik said leisurely. "Your turn."

Bakura picked up a new card, his eyes flickering as he examined it, and Marik wondered briefly about the card's contents. His gaze fell from Bakura’s face, to his pale neck, to the t-shirt slung loosely over his chest, and would have fallen lower had the table not been shielding the rest of him. Marik lingered on the realization he'd had the day before, when he'd felt Bakura’s smooth skin under his fingertips, and heard the hitch in his breath. The way Marik had hooked his fingers inside of Bakura, the way Bakura had gritted his teeth all through last night's movie with what Marik suspected was a huge hard-on. Despite Bakura’s protests, Marik thought that he’d enjoyed being dominated. He was almost entirely sure of it. He just needed another turn, so to speak, to be certain.

"I use De-Spell," Bakura said suddenly, and Marik frowned when he realized his Necrovalley was now off the field, meaning that his Jackal Guard was back to 1,500 attack points. "And I put Spirit Shield on my side of the field."

Marik examined the new card curiously. _When your opponent declares an attack, remove from play 1 fiend or Zombie-Type monster in your Graveyard and negate that attack and end the Battle Phase._ Interesting, Marik thought. But what good would it do if Bakura didn’t have any Fiend or Zombie monsters in his Graveyard—

And then it him suddenly. Bakura _did_ have Fiend and Zombie monsters in his Graveyard. Plenty of them, in fact. Marik thought back to the last several turns, when Marik had effortlessly wiped out most of Bakura’s monsters: Pyramid Turtle, Goblin Zombie, Mezuki, and most recently, Sangan. He’d thought it was funny that Bakura had equipped his deck with so many zombies for this duel, when the additions weren’t helping him at all.

But now Marik saw Bakura’s strategy. Although Bakura was wide open for attack, Marik’s battle phase would end for the next four turns anytime he tried to attack, since all Bakura had to do was remove Pyramid Turtle or Sangan or Mezuki from his Graveyard to stop Marik from attacking. He wouldn’t be able to do a single thing to Bakura’s life points.

"Interesting," Marik finally said, pursing his lips. "Are you done?"

"No," Bakura continued, still as rigid as ever. "I put this monster in defense mode, face down. And now I end my turn."

Marik sat up a little straighter in his chair, and his heart beat a little faster. He couldn’t afford to let his guard down now. He drew a card, examined his entire hand, and realized he didn’t have a single monster to play.

"I attack your face down card," he grumbled, knowing that doing so was useless because Bakura would just negate it.

"I remove Sangan from play to negate your attack and end your battle phase," Bakura said. "My turn."

Marik had to admit that he was momentarily fascinated. Bakura had been completely focused and alert the entire duel, betraying neither smirk nor frown. He’d clearly re-arranged his deck since last night and was examining every card carefully, weighing the pros and cons of each. Marik realized that it must have been the previous night's loss that prompted such a strong determination to win.

Suddenly, Bakura flipped up his face down card, revealing Zombie Mammoth, and placed it into attack position. The card’s special effect read: _Destroy this card if you do not have a Zombie-Type monster in your Graveyard. When this face-up card is destroyed, inflict damage to its controller equal to its original attack._

Marik glanced at Bakura, confused. "But you _do_ have zombie monsters in your Graveyard. Why would you play this?"

Finally, the corner of Bakura’s lip curved upward. In response, he played another card unfamiliar to Marik.

Creature Swap. _Each player selects 1 monster they control and switches control of those monsters with each other._

"I switch my Mammoth for your Jackal Guard," Bakura said, looking directly at Marik. "Since you don’t have any zombie cards in your Graveyard, the card is destroyed on your side of the field, making you lose 1,900 life points. I attack you with your own Jackal Guard for 1,500 life points, for a total of 3,400 life points. That means—"

Bakura’s voice faded as the points slowly added up in Marik’s head. He ran over the numbers several times, as if the math could lie to him, somehow. Thirty-two hundred minus thirty-four hundred was negative two hundred. He had negative two hundred points. Negative two hundred.

"You lose," Bakura finished.

Marik opened his mouth a few times, trying to think of something to say. For a moment, he just sat in his chair, shocked, while Bakura put away their cards. It shouldn’t have come as a great surprise, since Bakura was a great duelist, and Marik had been pushing his luck the past several days, but still. He’d lost. He’d lost the duel, and much more importantly, he’d lost the bet.

Bakura glanced at Marik, trying to discern the reactions his face was currently betraying, but the only thing he really felt right then was elation. He’d held himself carefully rigid the entire game because he’d wanted to be prepared for the worst of it. He’d wanted to stay neutral, because after the last three duels, anything could have happened.

But that wasn’t an issue anymore. He’d won. Won, won, won. And there was only one feeling flitting and scrambling around in his chest right now.

"Ready?" Bakura asked, poised to head into the bedroom.

And now it seemed that their dispositions had switched, because Marik was the rigid one. He said nothing, but merely brushed past Bakura and stormed across the apartment toward the bedroom, while Bakura followed.

The door slammed shut behind Bakura, their clothes fell to the floor without a word- as usual, Marik kept his shirt on- and Marik threw himself on the bed, lying on his back.

"Are you going to flip over?" Bakura asked as he carefully climbed up on the bed, eyeing Marik up and down. He’d seen him nearly naked plenty of times by now, but there was something distinctly different this time. Marik was very far from being hard.

"Hell no," Marik said. "I’m not letting you fuck me like some kind of dog. Now get on with it."

Bakura recognized the resistance. It was the same thing he’d experienced the first time Marik had fucked him.

Bakura opened the lube bottle and coated his fingers liberally, and then sat closer to Marik. "I’m going to stretch you."

Marik said nothing, so he took that as a sign to proceed. He started with one finger, slipping it into Marik’s asshole slowly, and was surprised at the clenching warmth around his finger, resistant but sucking him deeper all at the same time. Marik turned his head against the bedsheets, fixing his gaze on the far wall and biting his lips, while Bakura watched his face the whole time.

Bakura slipped in a second finger and saw Marik’s eyes widen slightly, before he closed them, and turned his head farther against the sheets. Bakura’s heart beat faster. He pushed deeper, mesmerized by the elastic softness around his fingers, and felt himself grow harder.

"I’m good," Marik said, turning his face back to Bakura. In the dimness of the room, his eyes were nearly black. "You can start now."

Bakura removed his fingers and coated his cock with more lubrication. His entire body was hot; he slipped his fingers leisurely over his own dick, getting harder still at the thought that he was finally going to fuck Marik.

How long had he been waiting for this? How long had it even been since their duel? The anticipation hovered in his fingertips, coursing through him, flaring up.

Finally, he guided himself toward Marik and pushed inside. The angle was strange, so he grabbed one of Marik’s legs and wrapped it around himself, while he still straddled Marik’s other thigh, and then he pressed into him again.

"Ah," Marik winced, and then turned his head to the side again, as if embarrassed by his own reaction. He clutched the bedsheets at either side of him, and seemed to force his body not to squirm as Bakura slipped in deeper.

Finally, Bakura had gone as far as he could go, and started to slide back out. If he had to describe the feeling, he would have nothing substantial to say because that’s all it was— feeling. It was wet and slippery, stretching and clenching and sucking and still awkward because Bakura’s hand kept slipping on Marik’s thigh while he moved in and out, and Marik kept looking at everything but Bakura, clearly not turned on at all even though Bakura had been at this for a few minutes already.

Bakura adjusted his angle, grabbed Marik’s hips fervently, and he thrust harder. He watched Marik’s face for a reaction, but found only a pair of pursed lips and eyes clenched shut. He wasn’t sure why he cared, but he wanted something more out of this. He wanted a pair of parted lips and half-lidded eyes, or at least some indication that the pleasure wasn’t only his own.

He started to adjust again, even out the pace to make it less sharp, grip Marik’s thighs less tightly, but suddenly he was climbing fast, riding on a thrust that stroked every part of his cock, until every inch of his skin trembled with the effort of holding himself back, and finally, he came. He breathed hard and fast as he continued thrusting, emptying out what felt like every part of him. When he looked down at Marik, he finally caught his eye, and noticed that he also looked a little winded, catching a shallow breath. And when he glanced down, he realized that Marik had grown slightly hard.

But Bakura hadn’t lasted long enough for Marik to really enjoy it.

Finally, he slipped out and rolled off of Marik, flipping over to lie back on the bed and catch his breath. Marik stood up slowly, padded across the bedroom and put on his boxers and jeans.

Bakura watched him the entire time, wondering why his heart was still racing long after his breath had evened out.

 

* * *

 

The next night, Bakura had wanted to bet again, but Marik had declined, saying that he didn't want to bet on a work night again. He'd explained that he really didn't need the extra stress of worrying about losing a bet to Bakura when he knew he'd have to get up early the next day and face a stressful shift at work. He hadn't told Bakura that he'd also spent his entire day at work feeling like he wasn't walking quite right and being paranoid that someone would notice. Still, the rest of his point stood. His shifts at the museum were nearly agonizing for him, and he always dreaded it when he knew he would have to go back the next day. He didn't need the additional worry of having to submit to Bakura sexually the night before if he lost their game. Besides, he liked having an additional week to try to improve his strategy in order to make sure that he didn't lose next time.

Bakura had acquiesced without much protest, possibly because he was so satisfied with how their last duel had turned out, and had agreed to wait until the weekend to bet again.

After the way their last game had gone, Marik wasn't much in the mood to play Duel Monsters that night, even just for fun. When he'd found out that Bakura had never seen _Cabin Fever 2: Spring Fever_ , he'd dragged Bakura into the living room and insisted that they watch it together.

As the movie ended, Marik grabbed the remote to switch off the TV, and then turned to Bakura. "So? What did you think?"

"Well, I'll tell you," said Bakura, "the entire movie was worth watching for that one single scene."

"Please tell me you're talking about the gym scene where-"

"Of _course_ ," said Bakura. "They're all locked in the gym, everybody's got the flesh eating bacteria, the floor is literally completely covered in blood, and then those two kids at the front are just _making out with each other_ right in the middle of all of this carnage-"

"And then they _totally vomit blood right in each other's mouths_!"

" _Yes._ Yes, that was so awesome." Bakura paused. "Still, it wasn't as good as the original."

"Well, not many things are as awesome as the original _Cabin Fever_ ," Marik said. "I mean, in the original, the part with the squirrels-"

"And what the girl says on the dock!"

"And the dog! And the sex scene-"

"Best sex scene in a horror movie _ever_."

"Best sex scene in _any_ mainstream movie ever. And the joke at the end, with the gun-"

"That was set up at the very start of the movie-"

" _Yes_. Funniest thing ever," said Marik. "Seriously, it's not even fair to compare. _Cabin Fever 2_ wasn't even directed by Eli Roth."

"Yeah, it's not a true sequel," said Bakura. "That's why I didn't bother to watch it before now."

"You know, a lot of times I feel like I should have more respect for Eli Roth," said Marik. "After all, he pretty much _invented_ the torture porn genre. But when I first watched _Hostel_ , my immediate reaction was 'not enough torture.' That was literally all I thought, because half the movie is just taken up by these naked girls jumping around to techno music, and how do I care about that? I don't, so get to the torture."

"Well, you have to remember that _Hostel_ was essentially the first torture porn movie," said Bakura. "You can't expect it to be as advanced as later developments. And Eli Roth is no Wan and Whannel."

"Well, who is?"

"Yes, exactly," said Bakura. "Nobody can measure up if that's the bar you're using. But _Hostel 2_...you should give it a chance. I know you've seen it, but you enjoy it more when you re-watch it and really try to appreciate what it's doing. Sure, it has the same problems as the original _Hostel_ , where the torture doesn't really start until the last half of the movie. But when the girl turns it around and brutally kills her captor and then gets the tattoo, you can't help but love it."

"Again, you just like movies that have vengeance."

"And again, so?" said Bakura. "And you can't say it's not cool when she escapes and takes her revenge on the lady that put her there. And then the child gang plays soccer with the lady's disembodied head? I laughed so hard."

"I admit, that was pretty hilarious," said Marik.

"Yeah, I know."

Marik was silent for a moment. Finally, he said, "You know, it's nice to have someone to talk to about this stuff. One time, my sister noticed that I had the fire extinguisher scene from _Irrevérsible_ favorited on my YouTube account, and she went into some big lecture asking me why I wanted to fill my mind with that kind of trash."

"Maybe because that scene is totally awesome?" said Bakura. "The way he keeps twitching after his face has already been totally annihilated and the guy just keeps hitting him."

"I know, right?"

Marik paused, looking over at Bakura. There was silence for a moment as their eyes met, and then Marik suddenly felt uncomfortable and looked down at his hands, which were twisting in his lap.

"Well, it's late and I have work tomorrow," Marik finally said. "I'm going to take a shower and get to bed."

Bakura nodded, and Marik heaved himself off of the couch and left the room without another glance at Bakura.

 

* * *

  
The rest of the week passed by fairly uneventfully, with Marik going to work during the day and then spending his evenings with Bakura, sometimes dueling him for practice, and sometimes watching movies with him.

Then it was Saturday night, and that meant it was time to bet again.

Marik's palms were sweating as he picked up his cards.

"So, for the bet tonight," Bakura said, picking up his own cards. "I thought we'd raise the stakes again."

"What?" asked Marik, his eyes widening.

 _Raise the stakes? Again?_ he thought. _What the hell could Bakura be thinking now?_

Bakura looked at Marik and smirked.


	10. Chapter 10

"Let's bet for a rim job," Bakura said nonchalantly.

Marik looked nonplussed.

"Bet for a what?" he asked slowly. "A rim-"

"Job. Exactly," Bakura continued. "I wanted to try out something different, and I thought this would be a good way of raising the stakes."

Marik's expression didn't change. "I don't even know what that is."

It was Bakura's turn to look nonplussed. He looked across the table at Marik, trying to decide if he was joking or not. This would be kind of hard to explain if he really had no clue what it was.

"It's where you-" Bakura started, and then paused to choose his words carefully. "Well, okay. It's kind of like a blow job."

"Yeah, I got that from the name," Marik interrupted, rolling his eyes.

"Except," Bakura continued, "instead of sucking someone's cock, you suck their, uh...you know, their-"

Bakura gestured at his lower back, but Marik just raised an eyebrow.

"Their what? Their pelvic bone?"

"Their asshole!" Bakura snapped, looking a little flustered, before he composed himself and continued. "Anyway. And it's not sucking exactly, but I hope you can imagine the details yourself without me spelling everything out. So, do you want the new bet, or not?"

Marik took a moment to think about this.

A rim job. Putting his mouth right up to someone's asshole and...he supposed it involved licking, or even putting his tongue into it; as he imagined doing those sorts of things to Bakura, he felt a shiver run down his back. Well, it wasn't like it was guaranteed that he would be the one to do it to Bakura. He had a great shot at winning the duel. The idea itself was definitely strange, and he would have never come up with such a thing himself, but- it wasn't bad. Like Bakura said, it was just another thing they could try out. And it did sound...interesting, for lack of a better word.

"Alright," Marik said, glancing down at his cards again. "Let's bet on it, then."

This duel took a lot longer than usual. They each started with 8,000 life points, naturally, but while one or the other destroyed a monster, or delivered a string of clever strategies, neither seemed to get the upper hand. It droned on, the momentum swinging back and forth between them for almost two hours before they were finally neck and neck, at nearly 1,000 life points each. Marik was almost ready to throw his cards on the table and quit just so they could finally end the game, but he finally found an opening.

"Michizure," Marik said, flipping up his trap card. "Since you destroyed my Spirit of Flames, I get to destroy your 7-Colored Fish."

Bakura threw his card into the Graveyard and sulked at his empty side of the field. Marik still had a monster on his side, and it didn't help that Bakura only had one spell card left and no monsters in his hand.

"Your turn," Marik said, smiling.

Bakura drew a card, quickly scanned its contents, and turned to Marik with a self-satisfied look on his face.

"What?" Marik said, folding his arms. "You've been giving me that look for two hours now, and just because you drew one good card, it doesn't mean you'll win."

"No, I think this time it does," Bakura said, his smile widening as he placed Legendary Fiend on the field.

Marik looked mildly impressed before he scoffed. "Just because it gains 700 attack points every standby phase, it still doesn't change the fact that it only has 1,500 attack points now. And my monster is a lot stronger than that. You're going to lose that card next turn."

"Not if I do this."

Bakura flipped up the spell card Swords of Revealing Light, which would prevent Marik from attacking for three whole turns, enough time for Bakura's Legendary Fiend to power up to a huge attack point level.

Marik eyed the card sourly. If he didn't do anything within three turns, even his Summoned Skull would be nothing compared to Bakura's monster, and he would lose the duel.

"Go on, then," Bakura prodded. "Your turn."

The next three turns were unbearable for Marik. Each time he drew a new card, it didn't help him in the least. All he could do was throw new monsters onto the field, but they were too weak to do anything for him. When the Swords of Revealing Light disappeared, Bakura's Legendary Fiend was at 3,600 attack points, and Marik's Summoned Skull was still only at 2,500.

"I'm going to attack you for 1,100 life points," Bakura said slowly, watching the resigned look on Marik's face.

"Are you doing anything about it?"

"No," Marik said, throwing the rest of his cards on the table as he stood up. "Congratulations. You win the game."

Bakura watched him carefully, trying to decide how to best bring up their bet, when suddenly, Marik heaved a deep breath and pursed his lips, trying to look a little happier.

"At least the duel is finally over. That took a lot longer than usual."

"Maybe you _are_ getting better, then, and not just getting lucky all the time," Bakura ventured, deciding to be a little nice since Marik had lost.

"Of course I am," Marik said offhandedly, but his mind was elsewhere.

The moment he'd lost, his thoughts had immediately jumped back to the bet. He wasn't so much dreading it this time as he was unsure. Now that the deal was set in stone and he _would_ be the one giving the rim job, he had to wonder how he'd do it; how exactly it was going to work. He imagined pressing his face down there, parting his lips, and reaching out with his tongue, but the idea was so vivid that he flushed and turned away from Bakura.

"You should probably, um...take a shower beforehand."

Bakura looked startled that Marik had even mentioned that, before he laughed and said, "Well, of course."

Twenty minutes later, Bakura was naked on all fours on Marik's bed. His hair hung in his eyes, still damp from his shower. Marik knelt behind him on the bed, his hands on Bakura's hips.

Bakura looked back at Marik. "Well?"

"Let me take a minute to work myself up to it," Marik said. "It's a little weird." He laughed nervously.

Bakura rolled his eyes. "Alright," he said, turning back around.

Soon, Bakura felt Marik's hands spreading him open. A moment later, he felt something soft and wet briefly touch his opening as Marik licked him experimentally. He gasped at the sensation. Encouraged, Marik licked once more, long and slow. Bakura shuddered as the feeling went straight to his cock. "More," he demanded.

Marik laughed again, still nervous, but now he could see the effect that this was having on Bakura, and he gladly obeyed Bakura's command.

Bakura felt Marik's tongue again, and this time it swirled in a circular motion over the exquisitely sensitive skin. Bakura moaned, dropping his head. "Yes, like that...don't stop..."

This time, Marik didn't stop. He knew he must be doing something right, because he could feel Bakura's body quivering against his palms. After a while, he decided to try something new, to see what other reactions he could get from Bakura. So he changed the motion of his tongue, flicking and poking at Bakura's hole.

Bakura pulled away slightly, as if he couldn't quite stand it, and then he shoved his hips backward, into Marik's face, seemingly trying to get more sensation.

Marik let that go on for a while, with Bakura retreating and then pushing back against him. Then Marik changed the motion of his tongue again, going back to circling, listening to Bakura's breathless pants as Bakura thrust his hips towards him.

Marik continued, with Bakura thrusting insistently towards him. Eventually, Bakura couldn't take it any longer, apparently needing something more. "Touch me," Bakura finally gasped.

And then Marik realized that _this_ was what he had wanted. From the start, he'd wanted to dominate Bakura, to make Bakura totally surrender to him. At first, he'd thought he could break Bakura through pain, but that was wrong.

Pain would never break Bakura. But pleasure? The last time he'd fucked Bakura, he'd gotten the idea that maybe he _could_ break him that way. And if he could break him through giving him pleasure...if he could make Bakura _need_ him enough...that would actually be far more satisfying for Marik...and it would be far more humiliating for Bakura. And that was exactly what Marik wanted.

And so, Marik drew away and said teasingly, "Oh, you want to come?"

"Yes," Bakura said with no pretense, not even seeming to think about his answer.

This only encouraged Marik, and he smiled evilly.

"Oh, but there's no touching when it's not part of the bet, remember?" Marik said snidely, referencing the aftermath of the last time he'd fucked Bakura. "The bet wasn't for a hand job, just a rim job."

Bakura groaned in frustration. Marik definitely took notice. He leaned down and gave Bakura one more sensuous lick, causing Bakura to suck in breath.

"If you really want me to do more than I owe," said Marik, "you'll have to give me something in return."

"What?" asked Bakura, seeming barely able to speak.

And Marik definitely wanted to take full advantage of the situation. "Let me fuck you, and then afterwards I'll give you a hand job and make you come."

"Yes, yes, alright," Bakura said, his answer immediate and possibly too enthusiastic.

Marik noticed it. "Well, you're eager. You sound like you really want it."

And Marik thought that it was true. Bakura _did_ want it- he'd wanted it the last time Marik had fucked him, and he wanted it even more now, after what Marik had been doing to him. And now he just had to make him admit it, to make the humiliation complete. "You liked it last time I fucked you, didn't you?" asked Marik.

"N-no..."

"Oh," Marik said casually. "Well, I wouldn't want to do something you don't like."

So Marik dipped his head and went back to licking Bakura, giving Bakura's body a jolt.

Marik's tongue circled and flicked and poked at Bakura's opening, and soon enough, Bakura was panting and quivering again. Marik brought his head up. "Do you have anything to say?"

But Bakura resisted, and shook his head jerkily.

"Okay," Marik shrugged, dipping his head again.

Marik's tongue touched him again, and Bakura knew he couldn't hold out much longer. The circling and flicking of Marik's tongue on the sensitive skin of his entrance was driving him crazy, and more than anything, it made him want something inside...he _needed_ to be filled.

"Alright, alright, I liked it!" Bakura finally yelled, entirely against his will, his cheeks burning as he spoke, but unable to help the exclamation.

Marik gave him one more long, slow lick before sitting up again.

"Good," Marik said, smiling his cat-like smile. But he wasn't done yet. He wouldn't be done until he'd made Bakura completely debase himself. "Now ask me for what you want. Ask _nicely._ "

"Oh, you little fucking brat, I'll-"

But Bakura's words were cut off when he felt Marik's tongue fluttering around his opening again. Marik hadn't expected this to be easy, but he didn't mind. He would go on for as long as it took. Marik continued licking until Bakura's body was shaking uncontrollably.

It went on and on, and eventually, Bakura couldn't take it anymore; he was dangerously close to losing control. He badly wanted to be fucked, and to come. Finally, he couldn't stand it any longer. He was utterly out of his mind, and he could no longer even think about what he was saying, or the consequences.

"Fuck me, please," Bakura said mindlessly, breathless. "I need you inside me."

"Of course," Marik sighed, and as he sat up and coated himself with the lube, he was satisfied with Bakura's request even more than he'd thought he would be, every nerve in his body telling him that he needed to be inside his best friend.

Marik slipped in slowly, and it took all he had to restrain himself and make himself move gradually.

Then he reached around and grasped Bakura's cock, and began stroking.

"You're- you're not- going to make me come when you're inside me, are you?" Bakura said, some part of him still rebelling against the idea of coming when Marik was _inside._ "You- you said after-"

"Don't worry," Marik said, almost breathless himself now. "I've just started, so I don't intend to make you come yet."

But Bakura was already on the edge. "Then- then stop touching-"

And then Marik's hand was gone.

Marik continued thrusting into him, and it was _so_ good to be completely enveloped by Bakura like that. And then, even through his ecstasy, he remembered something, and he changed the angle of his thrusts a little, trying to hit that spot that he'd touched with his fingers before.

He tried a few experimental thrusts, and at first there was nothing, but then he heard Bakura gasp, and knew he'd gotten it right.

He continued like that for a while, hitting the spot every single time, listening to the needy sounds Bakura was making, and then his hand was back, stroking Bakura.

"Marik- I'm- I'm going to-"

"Not yet," whispered Marik, taking his hand away.

But he continued with the angle of his thrusts, making Bakura draw in his breath sharply and involuntarily move his hips to meet him. Marik's own cock swelled at the sight of Bakura pushing back against him, no longer able to stop himself from moving in time with Marik. 

After enough time had passed, he grasped Bakura's erection again, stroking, and then, when Bakura was about to explode, he removed his hand, delaying his orgasm, but never stopping the motion of his hips as he pounded into Bakura.

And then he did it again, and again, taking Bakura right to the brink over and over, but never quite sending him over the edge.

Bakura quivered helplessly with pleasure and need, left hovering on the brink. Then Marik struck that spot inside of him again, his finger brushing over the tip of Bakura's cock at the same time, and Bakura was more desperate than he'd ever been in all his existence; he needed to come even if Marik was inside- _especially_ if Marik was inside- and-

"Please," Bakura finally cried. "Please let me finish."

Marik wasn't quite ready to finish himself yet, but that didn't matter. "Alright," Marik said quietly. "Come for me."

And then Marik's hand was back just where Bakura wanted it and his world exploded.

The pleasure coursed through Bakura's body, overwhelming him, drowning him, and Marik continued thrusting and stroking until Bakura was completely spent. Then he pulled out, letting Bakura collapse onto his stomach, his post-orgasmically weak body trembling against the bed.

Marik lay down on top of Bakura, his own erection pressing into Bakura's backside.

Marik's mouth was beside Bakura's ear. "Do- do you mind if I finish up?"

"Don't mind," said Bakura dreamily.

So Marik slid back into Bakura, and he thrust into Bakura's completely relaxed and open body until he came himself with a soft cry.

Then he pulled out again and rolled off of Bakura, lying down next to him.

Marik looked at Bakura's face. Bakura was smiling- maybe not at him, but smiling just the same- with half-lidded eyes. Marik had never imagined that Bakura could ever look so peaceful and content.

And something about that look made him want to- but no, he couldn't. Kissing Bakura would be utterly crazy, and it would make him lose every bit of power he'd gotten from this encounter.

But the urge was overwhelming, and he felt himself leaning in anyway. At the last moment, he diverted himself, and his lips instead met Bakura's shoulder.

Marik pulled back, afraid of what Bakura would do in reaction to that small show of affection. But Bakura's eyes only slipped closed.

Bakura was clearly exhausted. And Marik didn't have the heart to kick him out of bed and back to his place on the couch.

Feeling strange about what he'd just done, Marik rolled over, so that he was facing away from Bakura, and scooted all the way to the very edge of the bed, putting as much distance between himself and Bakura as possible. Eventually, he fell asleep.

 

* * *

  
When Marik woke up the next morning, Bakura wasn't there, and this didn't surprise him at all. He didn't figure they'd be talking about the previous night any time soon. He shuffled around the apartment for the rest of the day, occupying himself with various things.

And then, that night, Bakura came home with another token. He dropped it on the coffee table in the living room where Marik was watching TV, and plopped down on the couch beside him. Marik's eyes widened as he picked up the token and delicately turned it over in his hands. As always, the turquoise color gleamed back at him.

"Thanks," he said, turning to look over at Bakura.

Bakura just nodded his head, unbuttoning his coat. The nights had gotten cooler, and he still had some color in his cheeks from the cold breeze. As he dropped the coat on the armrest, he noticed Marik staring at him.

He cocked an eyebrow. "What?"

Marik blinked, as if he'd just realized that he'd been staring.

"Nothing," he said immediately, turning away. And then he hesitated, as if he wanted to say something but wasn't sure how to start.

"I've lived with you long enough now to know you have something on your mind," Bakura said, rolling his eyes. "Spit it out, already."

Marik didn't look reproached. Instead, he glanced back at Bakura and held his gaze. Somewhere far away, the TV was blaring at them, but suddenly Bakura had no interest in it.

"I just wanted to say thanks," he said again.

"You said that already," Bakura replied, and if Marik didn't look so serious, he would've sounded snarkier than he did.

Marik looked down at the token again. "Thanks for helping me out, I mean. There's no way I could've stolen these on my own."

"Well, it's part of our deal, right?"

"Yeah," Marik replied, admiring the reflection of the TV screen on the token. "But I feel like you would've helped me out anyway, even if we didn't make the deal."

"Of course I wouldn't have," Bakura scoffed. "Nothing would be in it for me."

"Well, you've done it before."

"When?" Bakura asked skeptically.

"During the Battle City tournament. When you dueled my dark side," Marik said, turning the little token in his hand again, running his fingers over the smooth surface. "You didn't have to duel for me, but you did anyway."

Bakura stayed silent, remembering the breath of Ra on his face and the way Marik's spirit had burned up in flames.

"I wanted to bring that up because I lied to you before," Marik said, and Bakura gave him a strange look. "When I first brought the Ring back to our apartment, I told you that dueling for me didn't make a difference and that it didn't benefit me at all, but I was wrong."

Bakura watched him, transfixed.

"It actually meant a lot to me that you tried to destroy my dark side. You could have just set up a duel for the Rod, item for item, like my other personality suggested. But you decided to duel for me instead, risking yourself to try to destroy my dark side and protect me. And you saved my brother beforehand. And I just wanted to thank you for that."

Momentarily, Bakura's throat went dry at hearing the genuine gratitude. It was hard to accept a _thank you_. Bakura hadn't had those words spoken to him with any form of sincerity in a long time, and now, as he stared at Marik's bright eyes, he felt a part of himself tremble at this emotion.

He opened his mouth, suddenly finding it hard to speak or to tear his eyes away from Marik, before he finally regained his voice.

"Well. It's nice to get some appreciation around here," he said with a small smile, looking away.

Marik stared at him for another moment before turning back to the TV with a smile on his face.


	11. Chapter 11

Marik dropped his shoes haphazardly by the door, threw his coat to the floor, and furiously strode into the kitchen to snap open the fridge door. He eyed the contents slowly and distractedly, rubbing his temples as the details of his tough day at work continued to resurface.

"Long day?" Bakura piped up.

Marik nearly jumped out of his skin, just realizing that Bakura was in the room. Marik had been so wrapped up in his thoughts that his surroundings had gone completely unnoticed.

"Yeah," Marik said, letting the door handle drop and the fridge shut again. "Everyone's been really stressed around me all day, so I guess I got wound up, too."

"What's everyone so stressed about?" Bakura asked, his hands playing over a deck of cards he'd laid out on the table.

Marik pulled a chair back, joining him and abandoning all thoughts of dinner for the moment.

"Well, it's been a while since the people at the dig site started working, and they still haven't found any of the Millennium Items. None except for the Necklace, which Ishizu found just recently."

Bakura caught Marik's eye. "Well, it makes sense, doesn't it? Technically, only two items have been discovered: the Ring and the Necklace. The items have a certain connection to any of their previous owners, drawing those people toward them. That must have been why Ishizu found the Necklace."

That did make sense, Marik thought. He'd been drawn to the Ring because Bakura had been calling him from the item's confines. And Ishizu had owned the Necklace for many years, so the item must have easily recognized her.

"You're probably not going to find any of the other items," Bakura said, shrugging. "Although, I guess you could find the Rod for them, if you wanted. Or even Kaiba could, since he owned the Rod in Egypt, long ago."

"I'd want to help them find it," Marik said thoughtfully. "But I don't know if I want to look for the Rod."

"Why not?" Bakura asked, looking surprised. "Because you're afraid you'd want to take it?"

"No, that's not it. I really do want to help the diggers, if they'd let me," Marik said. "It's just that the Rod brings back a lot of bad memories for me. It's the last thing I want on my mind right now."

"I see," Bakura replied, sensing that the subject of those memories wasn't something he wanted to breach at the moment.

"Anyway, I guess they'll have to figure something out if they want to find the rest of the items," Marik sighed, as he stood up again. "I'm just glad this day is over. I had a lot more crap to deal with than usual."

"Like what?" Bakura leaned back in his chair, picking up his cards and shuffling through them again. He'd probably been reorganizing his deck while Marik had been gone during the day.

"Mostly annoying co-workers," Marik said, opening the fridge door again and pulling out vegetables to prepare for dinner. "It seems like whenever they say, 'I'm taking a five-minute break,' it always turns into half an hour or an hour break. They just sit in the back and I'm the one taking care of the register and dusting and cleaning up. And then, when I ask them for help, they just give me dirty looks and insult me."

"Sounds like you have some horrible coworkers," Bakura said.

"They really are," Marik continued. He dropped a washed onion on the cutting board and started cutting it up. "And then, when I'm on break, they just sit around talking about their sex lives. And it's like, I really don't care who those bastards have slept with or what kind of girls they've picked up. It's not something I want to hear about while I'm trying to eat my lunch, you know?"

Bakura smiled. He kind of liked it when Marik complained to him about his work.

Half an hour later, dinner was done, and they were still talking about Marik's annoying co-workers while eating and laughing. After the dishes were cleaned and put away, Marik turned to Bakura.

"Hey, so I know we normally don't bet on a week night," Marik started, feeling a little self-conscious for bringing this up. "But I'm not feeling as stressed as I thought I would."

"You're not?" Bakura's eyes lit up. "Do you want to bet?"

"Actually, yeah," Marik said, blushing a little. Normally, he wouldn't have brought this up, but after talking with Bakura for the past hour, he'd relaxed considerably, and maybe sex would take his mind off of his long day.

"What do you want to bet on?"

"How about a blow job?" Marik asked.

"Okay," Bakura smirked. "But to make it interesting, how about the loser has to swallow this time?"

Marik bit his lip, instantaneously remembering the first time he'd given Bakura a blow job, and the salty mess that had shot into his mouth. It's not like the taste was unpleasant. He could deal with that. And if he won and Bakura was the one giving him a blow job, it would be especially satisfying to watch him swallow.

"Okay, deal." Marik smiled.

A minute later, he got out his deck and they started playing.

Half an hour later, Marik watched as the best monster in his deck was wiped out and his points shot down to zero.

"How!" Marik shouted, throwing his cards across the table and standing up. "I had three thousand attack points on my monster. There's no way you could take out both my monster and life points in one turn!"

"Well, it's done, and I think we made a deal on this duel, so if you're done throwing a tantrum, I'd like to get my end of it."

Marik pursed his lips, unable to believe his luck. But then again, he'd gotten to fuck Bakura on Saturday even though he'd lost, so maybe he shouldn't look so unfavorably on losing.

"Fine. Let's get this over with," he said before storming out of the kitchen, through the living room, and into the bedroom, while Bakura followed with a wide smile on his face.

"Sit," Marik snapped, and Bakura sat on the bed without question. Without prompting, Bakura also undid his belt and unzipped his pants, pulling them down to his knees. His boxers soon followed, bunching up against his pants.

Marik couldn't deny that the sight of Bakura's erect cock turned him on, just a little. He got down on his knees and ducked his head so that Bakura wouldn't see the blush spreading across his face. He curled his hand around the tip of Bakura's cock and brought his face close. Involuntarily, Bakura breathed in sharply.

Marik laughed, breathing against the tip of it. "I see you're eager. I haven't even done anything yet, and you're already reacting."

"Shut up," Bakura snapped, but he sounded too aroused to really mean it.

Marik decided to make it a game. What sorts of things could he do to get interesting reactions out of Bakura? After realizing that pleasure and not pain would break Bakura, Marik was now keen on exploring this insight.

He flicked the tip of his tongue against Bakura's cock, letting it trail up and down the length several times, loving the feel of the warm, smooth skin. Bakura's breath came in short gasps, but otherwise, the reaction wasn't gratifying enough.

Marik opened his mouth wide and swallowed the head, wrapping his lips around his cock to slowly swallow the rest. He felt Bakura tense as he almost imperceptibly pushed his hips upward, unable to withhold getting deeper into Marik's warm mouth. Marik used his hand to stroke the base, rubbing his fingers leisurely around the flesh, and guiding himself as deep as he could go.

"Oh, gods," Bakura whispered. "Can I-"

Marik moved his tongue around his cock, using his mouth to suck and lick as much of the skin as he could swallow, and felt the bed creak as Bakura shifted and grabbed the sheets between his two hands. He increased the rhythm, going between sucking and stroking, and swirling his tongue over and over, until he finally heard Bakura moan, and start thrusting his hips into Marik's mouth.

So that's what he'd wanted to do, Marik realized, not minding the thrusting. He liked the reaction, but he wanted more. He still had one free hand, which he snaked up Bakura's stomach until he found his nipple, and stroked his thumb across it. He stroked it in time with the rest of his maneuvers.

"Ah," Bakura groaned, his voice now breathless. "Marik."

The use of his name sent a jolt straight through Marik, right to his groin. He loved it. The way Bakura was reduced to helplessly gasping out his name, the way he'd tangled his fingers into Marik's hair, and was desperately trying to withhold orgasm if only for the sake of feeling this pleasure for a little longer. He was close already, Marik could tell. His entire body was quivering, coiled and ready to release under Marik's slurping, wet tongue.

Finally, Bakura arched into Marik, throwing his head back, and moaned again before he came. The liquid spilled into Marik's mouth, and he had to remind himself of the terms of their bet, and not immediately snap away from Bakura's cock. He continued to suck and stroke him until Bakura was done gasping and coming, and then he slowly withdrew his mouth, and forced the come to go down his throat. The taste was strange and salty, but like he'd thought, not unbearable.

He looked up at Bakura and was shocked at the sight. He looked entirely fucked. His face was red. And not just tinged with a slight blush; it was absolutely flushed. His lips were parted and his eyes were dark and dilated, and each breath was a short gasp. No doubt his heart must have been racing. His hands were still clenched in Marik's hair as Bakura gazed down at him through glazed eyes.

Marik's stomach dropped. He ducked his head and dropped it on Bakura's stomach, which was exposed since Marik still had his hand up his shirt. He felt unbelievably turned on just by the way Bakura looked post-orgasm. Before he could help himself, he pressed his lips against the skin of Bakura's stomach, and trailed upward, overtaken by some sort of feeling he couldn't even identify.

It's not like Marik had gotten the blow job, but he felt as if he'd partaken in it, somehow. Last time, he'd done it just to get it over with. Now, he felt that bone-weakening surge of pleasure that came with having sex with another person. And now, he couldn't contain the short kisses he trailed up Bakura's stomach. But he had to stop. This looked weird.

Marik immediately pulled away and stood up, turning quickly so that his half-formed erection wouldn't be visible.

"Alright, well," he started, his voice feeling a little shaky. "I have homework to do, so I'd appreciate it if you let me do that for the rest of the evening."

With that, he left the bedroom without waiting to hear Bakura's response.

Almost as soon as Marik had sat down at the computer and started the homework for his online classes, Bakura came out of the bedroom and stood beside Marik.

"What are you doing?"

Marik frowned. He really didn't want to be around Bakura right then. It felt awkward. But now here Bakura was, interrupting his work.

"I'm doing my homework. Go away. I need to concentrate."

"All you ever do is work," Bakura said. "Do you really think it's going to get you anywhere? It hasn't gotten you anywhere yet. It's a waste of time."

"Your opinion has been noted," said Marik sarcastically. "Now, can I please get back to work?"

Bakura sighed in exasperation. "When are you going to give up on this stuff?"

" _What_ stuff?" Marik growled irritably. "School?"

"All of it," said Bakura. "School, work, trying to be a nice little productive member of society...come on, Marik, this isn't you. You know it's not."

"I've already made it clear to you what my goals in life are," Marik said. "Do you really think I'm going to change my mind? You know that the entire purpose of you stealing these tokens for me is so I can win the tournament and better my place in society."

"Oh, yes, working with a criminal like me and cheating your way into a tournament," said Bakura sarcastically. "That's definitely the path to righteousness. See, you'll never be what you're trying to be. You don't have it in you."

"Shut _up_ ," Marik said, whipping his head around.

Bakura smirked at him, and then Marik felt irritated with himself for letting Bakura get to him.

"Fine, think whatever you want," Marik said, turning back around to face his screen. "I'm going to finish my homework."

There was silence for a moment. Marik stubbornly refused to turn around or acknowledge Bakura at all, hoping he'd give up and go away.

But then Bakura said, "So, what are you working on?"

"You wouldn't be interested," Marik said stiffly.

"How do you know?" asked Bakura.

"Well, for one thing, you already told me that you think it's a waste of time," Marik said, fighting to keep the irritation out of his voice.

Bakura leaned in over Marik's shoulder, trying to look at the open document on his screen.

"Bakura, seriously, are you trying to _annoy_ me into giving up on my life goals?" Marik said. "Get the hell out of here! I need to work on this. I'm already way behind on my school work. I never have time to do it anymore because you're always around bothering me."

" _Bothering_ you?" asked Bakura, raising an eyebrow. "I thought I was helping you prepare for the tournament."

"Fine, you're helping me in some ways," Marik admitted begrudgingly. "But you're still a distraction, and you spend most of your time just sitting around here doing nothing. You can't even be bothered to do any housework."

"Hey, our deal was that I'd steal tokens for you, not that I'd be your maid."

"You rarely even do _that_ ," Marik said. "You've been here for months, and you've only stolen three tokens."

"This is an extended tournament. I still have plenty of time to steal the rest," said Bakura. "But you know, it would be a lot easier for me to steal tokens more often if you'd give me back my damn Ring."

"Bakura, I _really_ don't want to have that discussion right now," Marik said. "Now seriously, can you just shut up and let me concentrate?"

" _Fine_ ," said Bakura.

Bakura didn't say anything else, but he didn't move away from where he was standing. He pulled the pack of cigarettes out of his pocket, took one out, and lit it. Marik heard the click of the lighter.

A couple of minutes later, Bakura still hadn't moved, and Marik finally turned around again to look at him.

"Are- are you really just letting your ashes fall right onto the carpet?"

"Yeah, pretty much," Bakura said calmly, blowing out a puff of smoke.

"What the hell is _with_ you constantly trying to destroy my carpet?" Marik burst out. "Do you have something personal against the carpet?"

"Well, I have something personal against you constantly bitching about the damn carpet, if that counts."

"See, this is what I'm talking about," Marik said. "Not only do you not do housework, you create messes that _I_ have to take care of. I let you stay here for free, and you have no respect at all for my home."

Bakura only shrugged. The fact that he was being so nonchalant just enraged Marik further.

"Put that fucking thing out and go do something that doesn't distract me or mess up the house," Marik said. "Seriously, how many ways can I say _leave me alone_ before you get it?"

"Alright, whatever you want," said Bakura.

Then he put his cigarette out directly on the back of the chair that Marik was sitting in, leaving a smoking hole. He dropped the cigarette on the floor and walked off.

"Are you fucking _kidding_ me?" Marik yelled. "I can't believe you just did that. I-"

But Bakura had already left the room, and was obviously ignoring Marik. Marik turned back to his work, struggling to put his annoyance with Bakura out of his mind and regain his concentration so he could finally get this done.

About an hour later, Marik's homework was finally finished. He found Bakura sitting by the window, smoking another cigarette. This time, he was actually using an ash tray.

Marik felt a little bad about how much he'd snapped at Bakura earlier. Though he didn't know why, since the entire thing really was Bakura's fault. Still, he sat down next to Bakura, watching as tendrils of smoke rose towards the ceiling.

"So, do you want to know what I was working on?" Marik finally asked, breaking the silence.

Bakura shrugged. "Whatever."

"It was nothing, really," Marik said. "Just some general education class I have to take that has nothing to do with my major."

"Oh," said Bakura, putting out his cigarette and not really looking at Marik.

"One of the students in the class was sending around a joke on the subject," Marik said, trying again. For some reason, he really didn't want Bakura to be cross with him. They had to live together, after all. And besides, he still needed him around to help him out with the tournament.

"I think that student is actually majoring in the subject," said Marik. Bakura still didn't seem to be paying much attention to him, but Marik pushed on anyway. "Alright, so a chemist, a physicist, and a neoclassical economist are all stranded on a desert island. They have a can of food, so they need to try to figure out how to open the can. The physicist wants to use a rock to smash open the can. The chemist wants to heat up the can so it bursts open. After he hears the suggestions of the other two, the neoclassical economist says, 'Well, why don't we just assume there's a can opener?'"

"What?" said Bakura, finally looking at Marik.

Marik laughed a little, mostly because he'd managed to get Bakura's attention.

"How about we go into the bedroom and see if we can disprove the law of diminishing marginal utility?" said Marik.

" _What_?" said Bakura.

Seeing the expression on Bakura's face, Marik couldn't contain it anymore and burst out laughing. Bakura looked at him in irritation, but after a little bit, he finally smiled.

Marik's laughter died down, and Bakura was quiet for a moment. Then he pulled another cigarette out of his pack.

"So...wanna see a cool trick?" Bakura asked.

"What kind of trick?" asked Marik, seeming slightly suspicious.

"You'll see," said Bakura. "You'll like it."

With that, Bakura led Marik over to the kitchen counter, and Marik followed somewhat reluctantly.

Bakura set his cigarette down on the counter and pulled out his lighter. He began rotating the metal wheel on the lighter, but he was rotating it the wrong way. It didn't appear to have any effect other than to make an annoying grinding sound.

Marik looked at Bakura skeptically. "This isn't something that's going to further destroy my home, is it?"

"I _told_ you, you'll like it," said Bakura. "So the answer to that question is _no_."

Bakura turned the lighter upside down and tapped it on the counter. A bunch of grey dust fell out- tiny specks of metal. Bakura then turned the lighter right side up and went back to grinding the wheel some more. As he tipped the lighter upside down and tapped it on the counter a second time, he chanced a look at Marik. Marik was beginning to look intrigued and curious. Bakura smiled, repeating the routine a few more times. When he judged that it was enough, he took his cigarette and used it to push the gray powder into a neat line on the counter. Then he rolled his cigarette in the stuff, coating the entire tube save for the filter.

"Now watch," said Bakura. And he lit his cigarette.

As he inhaled, tiny yellow sparks flew from the end of his cigarette. There were only a few sparks, and they went out long before they could hit the floor and damage anything. It looked like a holiday sparkler in miniature.

"I guess that is pretty cool," admitted Marik.

Bakura inhaled again, and more small sparks lit up the air.

Marik couldn't help but smile.

"See?" said Bakura, taking another puff.

"Where did you learn that?" asked Marik.

"Smokers' secret," said Bakura, inhaling again.

A moment of silence passed between them, and then Bakura said, "Hey, so...I'm going to go out and steal another token this weekend."

"Thanks," said Marik. "You were right, though...there's really no rush."

"Yeah, sure," said Bakura.

Bakura looked up at Marik and took another hit from his cigarette. Marik smiled again as he watched the little golden sparks popping in the air between them.


	12. Chapter 12

It was Saturday. The crisp, cool night carried a hair-raising breeze to the nape of Bakura's neck, as the sound of traffic struck his eardrums and the bright streetlights burned his eyes. His gaze darted back and forth across the well-lit sidewalks as he finally made his pick.

A teenager, this time.

Broad-shouldered, with a duel disk wrapped snugly around his arm, the boy was distracted as he chatted animatedly with another duelist, and was therefore an easy target. Bakura casually made his way across the street, keeping his head down and his gait light. He couldn't catch what the two duelists were saying because the broad-shouldered one was laughing with such a booming voice, and the other was laughing with him. Taking advantage of the fact that they were immersed in conversation, Bakura made the steal quickly.

First, he bumped into the larger duelist.

Just slightly, enough to distract him as Bakura's hand dipped into and out of his coat pocket within seconds, and secured the token. He could just as well have come up empty-handed, but Bakura had based his choice on instinct and observation- he'd previously noticed the duelist's hand brush against his own coat pocket, as though ascertaining the item's existence. It made sense, then, that he'd had a token.

"Hey, watch it," the duelist shot at Bakura, his laugh stopping short.

"Sorry," Bakura said in the meekest voice he could muster, and continued moving, feigning the encounter as an accident.

The duelist turned back to his friend without another word to Bakura, continuing his conversation.

Bakura breathed a short sigh of relief, glad that the steal had gone seamlessly and that he now had another token to add to Marik's little collection, when suddenly, he heard behind him: "Alright, I'll bet you one token, then, and we can get started."

It was that duelist's voice, and he must have just spoken to his friend. So that was it. The two were about to duel. Any second now, he would reach into his pocket and realize that his token was missing. He would remember that Bakura had brushed against him just seconds ago, and he would instantly put two and two together-

Before Bakura knew it, he'd broken into a run. His feet carried him down the sidewalk recklessly, instinctively. This was a bad idea. Suddenly sprinting like this under the bright street lights, especially right after making that steal-

"Stop!" he heard. "You! Stop right there!"

Bakura ran faster. His heart leapt up into his throat as he breathed sharp and fast. He rounded a street corner and made a beeline for the nearest enclosure he could find- the city park. The slap of his Converse shoes against the concrete was all he heard for a while as he ran through the park. The blood roared in his ears. He tried to keep up a fast running pace, but this body wasn't meant for strenuous exercise, and Bakura felt tired already. He slowed, catching his breath.

Out of nowhere, something rushed at him, knocking him violently to the ground.

He heard a malicious growl. "You thief."

Bakura could hardly breathe. He had been thrown down so suddenly and forcefully that his whole body was in shock, and his shoulder hurt like hell. He looked up and saw his attacker- just as he'd thought, it was the broad-shouldered duelist.

"I know you took my token, so I'd suggest that you hand it back now," the growl continued. "Unless you want me to beat the fuck out of you."

A cold shudder shook Bakura.

Not much on this earth frightened him, but he detested feeling defenseless. This body didn't have the physical strength to fight off someone as powerful as this duelist. This was why he needed the Millennium Ring on these heists, why he'd gotten so angry when Marik had withheld it from him. He needed the Ring's strength. He needed the power and blood fused into age-old gold. Without it, he felt a little less like himself. Without it, he was at the mercy of punks like these.

Well, Ring or not, he wasn't going to lie there and get beaten by this guy. Nor was he about to lose the token.

Before the duelist could react, Bakura swung one foot under his leg and tripped him, causing him to crash to the ground. In the duelist's momentary confusion, Bakura jumped to his feet, and tore out of the park as fast as his injured body would let him. He didn't look back to see if the duelist followed him.

Bakura weaved through the streets, taking a haphazard route through the city to get back to Marik's apartment so that the duelist wouldn't find him. After another ten minutes of running, he finally felt safe and slowed down.

His shoulder still hurt horribly. It wasn't a serious injury, but he was sure it would at least bruise, and he still felt winded as Marik's apartment finally came into view.

Well. Marik had at least better be happy with his token.

 

* * *

  
Bakura walked into the apartment, slamming the door behind him.

"Here's your fucking token," he said, pitching it in the general direction of the kitchen table where Marik was sitting.

The token would have bounced off onto the floor if Marik hadn't quickly reached out and caught it.

Marik looked up at Bakura. Bakura's face was twisted in a mixture of rage and pain, and he seemed to be out of breath. Marik noticed that Bakura's T-shirt was covered in smudges of dirt, and there was a small tear in it.

"What the hell happened to you?" asked Marik.

"Bastard chased me after I stole his token," Bakura said. He was breathing heavily. "Caught up to me and shoved me. I landed on my fucking shoulder. I managed to trip him up and then outrun him, but..."

"Are you sure you lost him?" asked Marik. "He didn't follow you back here?"

"I'm sure," said Bakura. He winced in pain as he tried to move his shoulder. "This whole thing is _your_ fault, you know."

"How the hell is it my fault?"

"Because this wouldn't have happened if you'd given me _my_ Ring," said Bakura. "In fact, this wouldn't have happened if you'd just brought me back in a better body. This body isn't made for running or fighting."

"Well, I didn't think you'd _have_ to run or get into physical fights," Marik said. "Aren't you supposed to just steal things without being noticed?"

"If it's so easy, steal your own damn tokens," Bakura spat.

"I didn't say it was easy in general. I just thought it would be easy for _you_. You're supposed to be some legendary thief or whatever."

Bakura shot him a murderous glare. He pulled off his shirt in one violent motion, grimacing again when the motion caused pain to shoot through his shoulder. Without saying another word, he dropped his ruined T-shirt onto the kitchen floor and stormed off into the living room.

After a moment, Marik sighed and followed him. Bakura had flopped down on the couch. He was lying on his stomach, his face buried in the pillow. Marik noticed the bruise already starting to form on Bakura's right shoulder.

He wasn't ready to give the Ring back to Bakura yet. He knew it was rightfully Bakura's, and that he'd have to give it back eventually, but he just didn't feel comfortable with that yet. He still dreaded that he'd come home one day to find out that Bakura had used his Ring to murder some innocent person. He couldn't risk that. Especially not while Bakura was living here under his roof. He knew that, for now, it was the right decision. But still...still, he felt bad.

He knelt down next to Bakura. "How bad are you hurt?"

"I'll live," Bakura said. His voice was muffled by the pillow, but Marik could still hear his irritation.

"Is it just your shoulder?" asked Marik.

"That, and I'm sore as hell from running for so long," Bakura said. " _Fuck_ , I hate this body!"

On impulse, Marik reached out and placed his hand on Bakura's lower back, rubbing gently.

Bakura's head snapped up. "What the hell are you doing?"

"Relax," said Marik. He added his other hand, and began carefully massaging along Bakura's back. "If you're sore, this will help."

Bakura made a low growling noise, and Marik wondered if Bakura was going to tell him to go away. When Bakura didn't speak, Marik said, "I didn't mean to imply that you're not a good thief. It's just...you usually don't have these problems."

Marik moved his hands up to the middle of Bakura's back, pressing just a little harder, and felt Bakura relax slightly under his touch. "I mean, this place is starting to fill up with things you've shoplifted," Marik continued. "You never seem to have any trouble with that."

"You'd have to be an idiot to get caught shoplifting," Bakura said derisively. "It's the easiest thing in the world. Just wait until nobody is looking, and stuff something in your pocket."

"And it's different with the tokens?" Marik prompted. He moved his hands up further, making sure to avoid the bruised area on Bakura's shoulder.

"Of course it's different," Bakura scoffed. "You have to walk up to a person in a crowded area and lift something right off of their body."

Marik carefully, gingerly ran one palm over the bruise on Bakura's shoulder, his other hand rubbing more firmly on Bakura's left shoulder. He was beginning to enjoy the feeling of Bakura's skin against his hands, and the way he felt Bakura's body relax by degrees the longer he continued. "It just doesn't seem like the kind of thing you'd normally have a problem with."

"It's _not_ ," said Bakura.

Marik moved his hands back down, lightly running his fingernails over Bakura's skin as he went. "So what's going on?"

Bakura sighed in resignation. As Marik began kneading his fingers into the flesh along his spine, he finally said, "I think I'm psyching myself out. Without the Ring, I feel...naked. And just knowing I can't fight...I start thinking about it, and it totally breaks my concentration, and then I make stupid mistakes. Even though I know better. Even though I _know_ I'm better than that."

Marik's hands slipped down to Bakura's thighs, and then his calves, massaging the muscles as he went. "Well, you got away with the token, so that's what counts," Marik said. He paused. "Thanks, by the way."

"Just doing what I promised," said Bakura. "That's all."

Marik slid his hands up along Bakura's inner thighs, and felt Bakura shiver a little.

Then his hands were tugging at the waistband of Bakura's jeans. Bakura didn't resist when Marik stripped off his pants, leaving him in only his boxers. They fell into silence as Marik ran his palms over Bakura's nearly naked body, and as Marik's hands continued to explore Bakura's exposed skin, the look of irritation finally left Bakura's face completely, his eyes darkening with lust.

Marik put his hands on Bakura's hips, and Bakura lifted himself slightly to allow Marik to slide his hands underneath him. His fingers ran over the material of Bakura's boxer shorts, skimming lightly down his erection, and Bakura sucked in breath. Marik's fingertips moved up and down, just barely touching him, and Bakura's breath quickened.

Then Marik pulled his hands away. Bakura looked at him, his eyes a mixture of arousal and confusion.

"Do you want to play a card game?" asked Marik, smiling evilly.

"I hate you," said Bakura. "Yes."

In another five minutes, they were back in the kitchen, had laid out their fields as usual, shuffled their decks, and sat down to draw five cards each. Throughout the whole process, the smile didn't leave Marik's face.

He was determined to win, no matter the stakes.

"What are we dueling for?" Bakura asked, still sitting only in his boxers across the table from Marik.

"What do you feel up for?"

"Nothing too strenuous. My shoulder still feels sore," Bakura said, placing a coin on the tip of his thumb to decide who would go first. "Heads or tails?"

"Tails," Marik said, and Bakura flipped tails. "Speaking of heads, why don't we bet for a blowjob?"

"Okay," Bakura said nonchalantly.

"Loser swallows."

Bakura smiled. "Even better. You start, then."

The game proceeded as usual. Marik summoned monsters onto the field, Bakura summoned monsters onto the field, they attacked each other, they lost life points. It was after Bakura had been reduced to 4,400 life points and had no monsters on his side of the field while Marik still had his two Evocator Chevaliers and 5,400 life points that Marik finally started toying with Bakura.

He could tell that Bakura was still worked up from the massage. He probably wasn't hard anymore, but he had a fierce blush across his face- most likely from the intense, back-and-forth duel- and his eyes were a blazing, hot brown. The sight alone had Marik itching and squirming in his seat to touch him again.

So he did.

Working his bare foot across the tile underneath the kitchen table, he inched forward until his foot brushed against Bakura's bare calf. Bakura didn't even budge as he looked down at his cards, most likely thinking that the gesture was accidental. Marik lightly caressed his skin some more with the heel of his foot.

Bakura's head shot up and he gave Marik a strange look.

Marik continued his ministrations, working his toes over Bakura's calf and sliding them upward.

"Marik, what the hell are you doing?"

"Nothing." The smile on his face widened, but finally, he dropped his foot from Bakura's and retreated back to his cards.

Bakura placed a card face down on his side of the field and ended his turn, looking frustrated over the fact that he couldn't seem to summon any monsters. Marik drew a card, looking pleased, as he dropped Gil Garth on the field. With Bakura's lack of monsters, this would be far too easy.

"I attack you with...let's see, my first Evocator Chevalier, and then my second, and then Gil Garth-"

"Don't think it's that easy," Bakura said, echoing his thoughts, as he flipped up his face down card. "Mirror Force."

Marik's face soured as he realized that all three of his monsters were wiped out in one turn. But no matter, he still had plenty of monsters in his hand.

While Bakura drew a card and deliberated his turn, Marik's foot snuck back to Bakura's end of the table, where he grazed Bakura's foot again.

Bakura glanced up, giving Marik that puzzled look again. "Do you want something?" he asked.

"Nope."

Bakura's attention returned to his cards, as he placed Cat's Ear Tribe on the field. Marik thought the move looked desperate more than anything, but he chose not to comment, as his foot moved to carelessly caress Bakura's other leg. He noticed that Bakura was trying to withhold his reaction this time as he didn't say anything. Marik also noticed that Bakura wasn't doing anything to stop his movements. Marik realized that this could work in his favor- his actions were clearly distracting Bakura from their game.

Marik used Pot of Avarice to bring back some of his earlier monsters, setting Cyber Harpie Lady, the 7-Colored Fish, Gil Garth, and his two Evocator Chevaliers at the top of his deck, and after shuffling his deck, he drew two cards, setting the Cyber Harpie Lady on the field.

"I'll attack your Cat's Ear Tribe with my Harpie Lady," Marik said, knowing that the move would destroy his own monster since the special effect of Cat's Ear Tribe was to reduce the opponent's attack points to 200 during the Damage Step, meaning that the two monsters simply destroyed each other. But Marik was feeling confident, and he knew that Bakura was having very bad luck right now, and wouldn't be able to come back that easily.

Bakura growled, dropping his monster into the graveyard. Again, his side of the field was monster-less. While he drew a card and considered his next move, Marik moved in again.

This time, he placed his hand underneath the table and leaned down slightly, his stomach brushing against the tablecloth as he reached as far as he could. Bakura was too engrossed in his luck-less cards to notice as Marik leaned closer and closer until finally, he brushed against something. After a few sweeps of his hand against the skin, he decided that he'd located Bakura's knee.

Bakura jerked and finally glanced up at him sharply, his eyes questioning again. "Marik, what are you-"

But Marik hadn't stopped moving. In fact, he'd brushed his fingers higher and higher up Bakura's leg until he was caressing Bakura's inner thigh. And at that sudden stroke of his fingers against such a sensitive part of his body, Bakura's lips parted, and the look he gave Marik was less perplexed and more lustful.

"Marik," he tried again, but no words were forthcoming.

Marik's smile turned devilish, and his touch lingered on Bakura's warm skin, sliding underneath his boxers as his hand moved higher. Marik had to strain against the table as he tipped forward, letting his fingers stroke upward slowly.

"I think," Bakura finally managed, sounding husky, "that it's your turn."

"You didn't put any cards on the field," Marik said, teasing with his words the same way he teased with his fingertips.

"Didn't have any," Bakura said, not breaking eye contact with Marik.

"Fair enough," Marik replied, and finally removed his hand as he slid back into his seat and drew a card.

The next few turns went by in a blur. They were both only marginally paying attention. All Marik was aware of was Bakura's streak of terrible cards and his own insatiable desire to keep touching Bakura between their turns. At one point, Marik put down Goblin Attack Force on the field and attacked Bakura for 2,300 points in one turn, getting him down to only 1,100 life points, and while Bakura looked pissed off, the glazed look on his face stayed and he still eyed Marik hungrily.

On Bakura's next turn, Marik's hand slid back against his thigh, working small circles into his skin, kneading upward.

"You know, if you kept your hands to yourself, I probably wouldn't be on the verge of losing like this," Bakura snapped, looking through his cards, and glaring at Marik over the top of them.

Marik said nothing, as he dared to go further. His fingers swept against the fabric of Bakura's boxers, working into the crease, when he finally touched the tip of Bakura's cock. He was definitely hard.

Bakura breathed in sharply, as he shot Marik a glare across the table. "Marik," he said, trying to keep his voice level.

"What?" Marik asked innocently. "Can't concentrate on your cards? It's not like you have any good ones to choose from, so the decision for what to play shouldn't be so _hard_."

To accentuate his point, Marik squeezed the tip of Bakura's cock when saying "hard" and he didn't miss the flash of desire across Bakura's face. Bakura had nothing to say to that. Marik took that to mean that he was fully turned on now.

Bakura placed a card face down and finally ended his turn.

A turn later, Marik had attached Mage Power to his 7-Colored Fish, and it was then that Bakura really had no hope of winning. Marik wiped out the remnants of his life points in one turn, leaving Bakura with a glower on his face, and a still visible bulge in his boxers when he stood up from the table and followed Marik into the bedroom to fulfill his bet.

Once they were in the bedroom, Marik got onto the bed, lying down on his side.

Bakura looked at him, slightly confused.

"Lie down here," Marik told Bakura, indicating the spot next to him.

Bakura shrugged and did as he was told, climbing up onto the bed to lay down beside Marik.

Marik still had the urge just to _touch_ Bakura, and so he placed his hands on Bakura's chest. Then one of his hands was drifting downward until it was petting Bakura's still-hard cock. Bakura shuddered, and Marik reached into the opening of his boxers, pulling out his erection and slowly beginning to stroke it.

"What are you-"

"I wouldn't want to leave you unsatisfied," Marik said quietly, continuing the motion of his hand over Bakura's cock.

Bakura gasped softly, and as his eyes closed, Marik squeezed harder and moved his hand faster. He soon elicited a groan from Bakura, and Marik felt himself begin to grow hard at the sound.

Marik went on, his hand stroking from base to tip, until Bakura began involuntarily thrusting into his fist, his breath coming fast.

Marik continued his ministrations, rubbing up and down every inch of Bakura's cock, and Marik could tell by Bakura's soft panting that he wasn't going to last much longer. Marik increased his speed, loving the reaction he was getting. He could no longer sense anything but the soft skin under his fingers, and the quiet, desperate noises that Bakura was making against his will. Marik circled his fingers around the head of Bakura's erection, spreading the liquid leaking from the tip all around the ridge and then sliding his fist downward again.

"Marik- ah-"

"You getting close?" Marik asked quietly.

"Yes," Bakura breathed. "Please don't stop..."

"Don't worry," Marik whispered. "I'm going to make you come."

Bakura moaned softly, and his hand reached for something to grip onto, and found Marik's hip. Without thinking about it, Marik leaned in and rested his forehead on Bakura's. Moments later, Bakura made a strangled sound as he began to come. As Marik felt Bakura's cock pulsing in his hand, he drew his head back and looked at Bakura's face, watching as he parted his lips and tilted his head back. He barely noticed Bakura squeezing his hip hard enough to leave fingertip-shaped bruises.

In the aftermath, Marik stayed still for a moment, hearing Bakura's ragged breathing. Then, impulsively, he leaned in and kissed Bakura gently on his forehead.

Bakura seemed too dazed to take particular notice of the gesture, but still, Marik quickly jerked away from him and rolled over onto his back.

"So, about the bet..." Marik started, as Bakura's breath leveled out.

"Oh, right," Bakura nodded slightly, as though just now remembering the earlier part of their evening.

Marik unbuttoned his pants quickly, already feeling turned on after the sight of Bakura coming, and pulled down his boxers, letting both articles of clothing bunch up around his legs.

Bakura's face was still flushed as he eyed Marik's erect cock. He moved to straddle Marik on the bed, and slowly lowered his head.

Marik watched him, propping himself up on his elbows.

"We said swallowing was included, right?" Bakura asked, taking hold of Marik's cock but not yet placing his lips on it.

"Right," Marik smirked.

He saw Bakura hesitate for only a second longer before he licked his lips and slowly wrapped them around Marik's sensitive tip.

" _Oh_ ," Marik said before he could help it.

The feeling shouldn't have surprised him by now, but it still did. Bakura's mouth was so moist and smooth around him as he took Marik in deeper, shifting against the bed sheets as he swallowed up his cock inch by inch.

Everything around him was wet and hot and Marik couldn't help but move his hips to get closer, and twist his fingers into the bedspread as Bakura started whirling his tongue.

And then Bakura started sucking his cock in and out slowly, and Marik lost all semblance of control. The strain from propping himself up on his elbows was too great, as he shuddered with each lick, his body shaking, his arms shaking, until he gave up and dropped back against the bed to lose himself in sensation.

He stopped gripping the bed sheets and instead gripped Bakura's shoulders, running his fingertips up and down his arms. He needed the skin on skin contact, although he didn't really know why.

He felt Bakura's hand pump up and down the base of his cock in time with his tongue, and Marik's breath hitched. He was breathless as wave after wave of pleasure gripped him, and he moaned softly as he felt himself getting close.

One of Bakura's hands came up to his stomach and slipped under his shirt, ghosting over his skin, and Marik almost lost it right there. "Bakura, I'm almost-" he started.

Marik looked down a split-second later, and the sight of Bakura was all he needed to reach his climax. He squeezed his eyes shut, slipped his fingers into Bakura's hair, and moaned loudly as the orgasm shook him, and he spilled everything into Bakura's open mouth.

Finally, he opened his eyes and the ceiling stared back down at him. Bakura removed his mouth, and Marik heard what must have been the sound of him licking his own lips. He lay there, tired but blissful, slowly catching his breath again.

He realized then that Bakura still had his hand under his shirt, because the bottom of it slowly rolled up, and something soft brushed against his stomach. When Marik glanced down, he saw that Bakura had pressed his face into his stomach. The bed creaked as Bakura rose up slowly to straddle Marik, and as he came up, he laid a kiss along Marik's arm, and then one on his shoulder.

Marik wasn't sure if what he was feeling was some sort of post-orgasmic high, but impulsively, he wound his arms around Bakura's neck and pulled him down.

Their faces were inches from one another, both flushed and eyes still glazed and filled with desire. Marik's heart beat fast as he recognized the insistency in his movements, as he pulled Bakura down closer and closer. It was the same feeling he'd had the last time he gave Bakura a blowjob, that moment when he'd kissed along his stomach.

Something quivered in the pit of Marik's stomach as he realized what he was about to do, but he ignored the feeling as his pulse raced faster and faster, and he finally gave in.

He pressed his lips to Bakura's, opening his mouth just enough to run his tongue over Bakura's bottom lip. For a moment, Bakura's lips moved against his, as he pressed into Marik, and that intense feeling gripped Marik harder than ever. He was feeling something in his bones beyond the pleasure of orgasm, something to do with being able to have Bakura _now_ , after the sex.

But then suddenly, Bakura pulled back and slipped out of his grip, moving off the bed.

The whole kiss had lasted maybe two seconds, and as Bakura turned and found his pants to put them back on, Marik felt his face flush, and wondered why he'd just done that. He slipped off the bed and pulled his boxers and pants back on, acting as though nothing unusual had happened.

And nothing weird _had_ happened, Marik reasoned. They had fucked in so many ways imaginable already. What was a kiss by comparison?

But somehow, it seemed different.

Marik shoved the thought away as he buckled up his belt, and walked out of the bedroom to join Bakura for some late Saturday night TV.


	13. Chapter 13

Bakura knew that Marik was upset the moment he came home from work on Monday night. It was subtle. Marik didn't throw his shoes off or storm through the house or make a fuss about whatever had upset him, but there was a jagged quality in his face that gave him away. Mainly, his lavender eyes, narrowed and tempestuous.

"What happened?" Bakura asked, leaning against the kitchen doorway.

"What?" Marik asked, throwing his coat onto one of the kitchen chairs.

"You look pissed, so what happened?"

Marik was silent for moment, as he turned from Bakura and headed toward the refrigerator.

"The Millennium Rod," he finally replied, picking something out for dinner. "I told Rishid and Ishizu what you told me. That the only way they'd be able to find the rest of the Millennium Items is if the previous owners found them. I told them I'd come up with the idea myself, of course- not that it came from you."

"And what did they say?"

Marik shrugged. "They're going to get in touch with Seto Kaiba and see if he'll find the Rod for them."

Bakura was silent as he absorbed this. He remembered the conversation he'd had with Marik a few days ago about the Millennium items. How interesting. He scoffed, saying, "Yeah, like Kaiba's just going to fly down here out of the goodness of his heart."

"They're going to pay him. I'm sure they know him well enough to at least offer him that."

"Well, I guess that's a start for them," Bakura said, still a little surprised by the news. "I just hope he doesn't see me when he comes here. I'm still going to be out stealing tokens, and the last thing I want is for him to recognize me."

"You've been good at avoiding people so far. I don't think it should be a problem for you."

Bakura fell silent, not knowing what else he could say about the new turn of events. Marik didn't look like he wanted to talk about the issue any further, as he started chopping up vegetables for what looked like koshari- Bakura wrinkled his nose at the thought of the vegetarian dish- and so Bakura left him to cook dinner and went to watch TV in the living room until Marik was done.

Not even twenty minutes into the TV show, however, Bakura heard a series of clangs coming from the kitchen. The sound of metal banging against metal. Marik was probably just putting away pots and pans, he surmised, and went back to watching the TV show.

But a moment later, a cupboard door was slammed. Then a crash of silverware into the sink.

Though it was probably nothing- Marik always made a lot of noise while cooking dinner, so this wasn't unusual- Bakura decided to go back into the kitchen to investigate.

And the sight that greeted Bakura when he peered into the kitchen _wasn't_ unusual. Marik was washing something when Bakura came in, and didn't turn as he stepped in further.

Bakura wasn't sure what to say. Marik had come home frustrated and angry many times before, so it wasn't as if tonight was an exception. But something told Bakura that Marik wasn't just angry. There was something more to the erratic movements and the need to make so much noise. Marik was distracting himself, frantically moving as if he could get away from his thoughts and his distress. If Bakura didn't know any better, he would have sworn that Marik was on the verge of a breakdown.

Suddenly, Marik turned and saw Bakura standing near the counter top. "Dinner isn't done yet," he said, eyes still narrowed and even more fiery than before.

"I know."

"Then don't bother me. I'll call you when it's ready."

Bakura didn't budge. Something compelled him to get to the bottom of this. As though it wasn't just Marik's problem to deal with, but his own. "There's obviously something bothering you, and it's not me," he finally stated. "Does it have something to do with Seto Kaiba coming here?"

The result was like firing a bomb. Marik snapped back to him with a vicious stare, and if he wasn't holding a mere towel and plate in his hand, he might have looked intimidating. "There's _nothing_ fucking bothering me. Get the _fuck_ out of the kitchen until I tell you to come back."

Bakura dared to smile a little. "Really? Nothing's bothering you?"

And then he knew he'd gone too far, because Marik's eyes flashed, and suddenly, he slammed the plate he was holding to the tile floor, shattering the china into a million pieces. Thankfully, he'd thrown it to the side and none of the pieces bounced back toward them.

"What the hell!" Bakura's smile was gone instantly as he stepped back. "What is wrong with you?"

"I told you to leave me the fuck alone." Marik made to turn, probably to continue doing the dishes, but Bakura grabbed his arm before he could do so. He glanced at Bakura. They locked eyes, and the glare Bakura received didn't deter him.

"You can't honestly expect me to believe you after doing that," Bakura said. His voice was softer than he intended it to be.

For a moment, Marik said nothing. They stood like that, Marik backed into the kitchen counter while Bakura had a firm grip on his forearm. And suddenly the glare became something else entirely. As if disarmed, Marik's glower faded, and was replaced by a troubled look.

He opened his mouth several times before finally beginning. "I'm not pissed about Kaiba getting involved," he said, and as he did, Bakura released his arm. Marik took a deep breath. "It's the fact that my brother and sister asked for him to begin with. They didn't even ask _me_ , their own fucking brother. They didn't even bother giving me a chance to find the Rod, even though that would be easier and cheaper for them."

Bakura frowned. "Okay, I can see why you'd be mad about that. But I thought you didn't want to look for the Rod. You told me that it'd bring back a lot of bad memories for you if you found it."

Marik seemed to have forgotten that he'd told that to Bakura. They exchanged a long look before Marik suddenly turned and sat down at the table. He ran a hand a through his hair, and then rubbed his eyes, looking tired and lost. "I did tell you that," he said. "And I guess you're right. I should just let Kaiba find it since it's not like I even want to look for it."

Bakura joined him at the table. "Is that the only thing bothering you? That your brother and sister don't trust you enough to let you help?"

"Not just that," Marik said. He played with a frayed edge of the tablecloth. "Even if I'm not the one looking for the Rod, I still know it's going to be dug up and brought back. And that makes it hard not to think about...things."

"Things? Your childhood, you mean?"

"Yeah," Marik sighed.

"Are you talking about killing your father?" Bakura asked. "Because I already told you that it wasn't your fault. That bastard deserved it, and you shouldn't keep feeling sorry about it."

Marik shook his head. In the background, something simmered quietly and a gust picked up outside, throwing tree branches against the window, but neither of them noticed.

"It's a lot more than that," Marik said. "I mean, I lost a huge part of my childhood because I lived in a goddamn tomb. I never went outside. I never even had friends other than my brother and sister, and they didn't really understand. And I was expected to live like that my whole life? Carrying out ancient duties for a Pharaoh I didn't give a damn about? Rishid and Ishizu didn't have the same burden I had."

"But you're out of there now," Bakura said. "You're done with that."

Marik scoffed. "I guess you could say that, but that doesn't mean I can forget it. You ever have nightmares about things you experienced a decade ago? Or things carved into your skin that won't ever go away? Those are the kinds of things I can never forget, even if I wanted to."

"But look at what this is doing to you," Bakura said, frowning. "What happened to you was wrong. But the way you're dealing with it is stupid and destructive. I mean, you still won't even take your shirt off when you have sex with me, and I know it's because of those scars."

Marik looked surprised that Bakura had brought that up. "Well, of course I won't. I don't want anyone to see them."

"Why not?"

"Why would you want to?" Marik looked revolted. "They're disgusting. They're ugly."

"I wouldn't say they're ugly," Bakura said, and Marik gave him a strange look. "You know, I had scars in my past life too, and I never thought of them in a bad way."

Marik glanced at him curiously, instantly forgetting his own scars. "How else would you think of them?"

"I've always thought of them as a symbol of strength. It meant that I wasn't going to give up. I never saw them as ugly or disgusting."

Marik was silent for a moment, as it dawned on him how much Bakura had suffered, too. He was familiar with the massacre in Kul Elna, and he knew that Bakura- like him- had been just a boy when it happened.

"The Millennium Items," Marik started, not sure where he was going with the thought, "now that they're being brought up, they must be affecting you, too. They must remind you of your past life and of Kul Elna."

Instantly, Bakura's eyes narrowed, and his sympathetic expression was gone. "No, they don't," he said. "I don't really think about my past."

Marik frowned, wondering why the topic of Bakura's life had such a sudden and sour effect on his mood. But then Marik realized that Bakura didn't like to admit when he was troubled, or when he had his own issues and memories to work through. "Don't give me that crap," Marik said, "I know you well enough to know that you're lying."

"I'm not," Bakura snapped.

"I just admitted to you that I still remember my past and that it still bothers me and you can't even admit to thinking about yours? That's obviously a lie."

Suddenly, Bakura stood up from the table, letting the chair scrape back behind him. He looked furious. Marik knew that it was hard for Bakura to acknowledge his own feelings, but he seemed incredibly defensive this time.

"I'm not fucking lying to you and I'm not fucking upset about my past the way you seem to be. I don't live the way you do, regretting killing that son of a bitch of a father and trying to live your life for other people."

Marik glared, but he tried not to let the insults get to him. Bakura was just lashing out, shielded like a cornered animal. "If your past doesn't bother you, then why are you getting so upset about it?"

Bakura opened his mouth to say something, but then seemed to think better of it, and suddenly stormed out of the kitchen, knocking the chair back even further as he left.

A moment later, Marik heard the TV click on and the blare of music and voices. He sighed, and decided that angering Bakura further was probably not the best idea. Marik couldn't deny that talking to Bakura about his past and his current problems at work made him feel a little better about things. He was grateful, and he didn't want to leave things bitter between them.

Marik walked into the living room and found Bakura staring at the TV intently, not moving a single muscle. He didn't even turn to look at Marik as he sat down at the far end of the couch.

"Bakura," Marik started.

He didn't reply. Instead, Bakura continued to watch whatever channel he'd flipped to.

Finally, after several minutes of silence, Marik took the remote that was lying on the couch between them and pressed the _off_ button.

Bakura still didn't react.

"Look," Marik started again, and this time he was greeted with silence instead of the blaring noises. "I know you're upset. And it's alright to be upset about your past. You can't have gone through what you went through without remembering it, and thinking about it from time to time."

Bakura glanced away, keeping his gaze far from Marik's.

"I know it must be hard for you with the items being brought up again, and denying it isn't going to do you any good."

Finally, Bakura looked Marik in the eyes, and the expression Marik saw was heartrending. He was still frowning, but his eyes said so much more. Marik could tell that his words were appreciated, no matter how much Bakura denied them.

"It's definitely hard for me with the Rod coming back, and it must be even harder for you, since all of these items mean something to you, and remind you of your people."

Bakura glanced away again, but he no longer hid the expression on his face. "Alright," he finally said. "The items did mean a lot to me. They were my people. They were made from the blood of my people."

Marik listened intently, hoping that now that he'd finally gotten Bakura to talk, he would continue.

"And it wasn't just the fact that they died, but that I watched them die." Bakura looked disgusted and horrified, as though he was reliving the moment as he recalled it. "Can you imagine being a little kid and watching your entire family and village get killed? In one single night, I lost everything."

Marik didn't know what to say to that. But really, what was there to say? Saying sorry wouldn't fix anything. And so, tentatively, Marik scooted closer to Bakura and placed an arm around him, hoping that the touch wouldn't be unwelcome.

Bakura stiffened at first, but then imperceptibly leaned back against him.

"And watching them die wasn't the end of it," Bakura continued, his voice sounding distant. "After that, it was vengeance. I wanted to kill them all. Every single fucking guard and palace official who thought it would be okay to murder a whole village just to create those items. I dedicated thousands of years to it, and I never..."

As Bakura trailed off, Marik leaned closer, wrapping a second arm around him until he was hugging him, and Bakura let himself be embraced.

"You told me a while back that you understood me because we're the same," Marik said as he pulled back. "Well, that works both ways."

Bakura glanced at him, and slowly, his lips turned upward into a small smile.

And Marik meant that, every single word of it. He and Bakura had needlessly suffered, and had gone after revenge to destroy the same people who had destroyed them. Not destroyed them physically, but mentally, in the most damaging way possible. And here they were now, two people who had gone through horrifying experiences, reliving them together.

They locked gazes, and before he knew what he was doing, Marik leaned forward.

He couldn't explain the sudden, overpowering feeling, but he wanted the proximity right now. He wanted the connection that was both mind and body, and he couldn't help suddenly tilting his head forward until they were nearly nose to nose, and then pressing his lips to Bakura's.

For a moment, Bakura's mouth opened to him. Marik moved closer, pressing gently against his lips. Then, Bakura pulled back suddenly, and turned away from him.

Marik was momentarily shocked that he'd allowed himself to do this again, but tried not to think anything of it. The kiss had been sudden, and not exactly intended. He ran his tongue over his bottom lip, and then, to distract himself from the strange feeling settling in his chest, he grabbed the remote again and turned the TV back on.

One of their favorite shows was on, and after a few minutes of watching it, they fell back into their regular banter, all thoughts of horrifying pasts banished for the night.  


* * *

  
A few nights later, Marik came home with only one thought running through his head: that he really, really wanted to have sex.

The conversation he and Bakura had had on Monday night was still on his mind, and every day that he went to work, he was reminded again and again why he'd gotten so upset that evening. It was hard to face his brother and sister at work every day when he knew how little they trusted him. He was burdened with thoughts about the Rod, and Kaiba, and his siblings, and it became overwhelming. He wanted to get his mind off of the whole thing, and the only thing he could think of was sex.

He wanted the skin on skin contact, and the pleasure and the sweat. He just wanted it as a distraction, and nothing more.

"I want to bet," Marik said after dinner.

Bakura glanced up. "You do? I guess you must be getting comfortable with betting on weeknights now."

"I guess so," Marik said, not thinking much of it. He took a moment to realize how habitual their activities had become. "Plus we haven't done anything since the weekend."

"Okay," Bakura said, and left to get the cards. They stored them in a cupboard over the sink since they used them so frequently now. "Wanna bet on loser gets fucked?"

"Sure," Marik said easily, and then he smirked, thinking of the last time they’d fucked. "But why even bother with that? You clearly like it better on the bottom."

Bakura immediately flared up. "Fuck you! I only said that when you had me in a...compromising position. I don't actually like it that way!"

Marik's smile widened, but he decided not to push too many buttons. "Alright, alright, don't get so worked up about it," he said, holding his hands up in mock surrender. "Let's just duel for loser getting fucked."

Bakura glared at him again before he sat down to set up the cards.

They started the game, and after flipping for it, Bakura went first. He set two cards face down and a monster face down in defense mode.

Marik had created a new deck during the week in between his off hours at work- if he considered it, he would realize that this had been another technique to get his mind off of his problems- and decided to test out the monsters in tonight's game. He summoned Manju of the Ten Thousand Hands and attacked Bakura's face down monster.

"You should know better by now," Bakura laughed, and revealed his monster. Its flip effect allowed him to send Marik's Manju back to his hand. "My turn, then. I summon Rescue Cat, and use its effect to summon Tree Otter and Lock Cat."

Marik watched with a sour look on his face. Tree Otter had the effect of raising its own attack points by 1,000 if there was another Beast Type monster on Bakura's side of the field, which was why Bakura had also brought out Lock Cat.

"I attack you for 3,400 damage with Lock Cat and the Tree Otter."

Marik swore under his breath.

"Oh, and I play this magic card that takes 500 life points from me and 1,000 from you."

"Fucking hell," Marik said again. The only good thing about this battle phase was that Bakura's monsters were automatically destroyed at the end of his turn due to Rescue Cat's effect.

Marik managed to bring out Manju again, and then played Curse of the Masked Beast, allowing him to Ritual Summon the Masked Beast. He tributed his Manju and Nuvia the Wicked from his own hand to summon the Masked Beast.

"That's 3,300 attack points," Marik said smugly, eyeing his eight-star monster. That strategy hadn't been easy to come up with, but a few turns of using this powerful monster would be enough to wipe out Bakura's life points, or at least bring them back on equal footing. "And since you have no monsters on the field, I attack you directly."

"Don't get so cocky," Bakura said easily, flipping over a face down card.

It was Sakuretsu Armor, and Marik's heart sank at the inscription. _Activate only when an opponent's monster declares an attack. Destroy the attacking monster_.

"Are you fucking kidding me?" he burst out. "I get this fucking eight-star monster out on the field and I can't even use it for a single attack!"

He begrudgingly threw the Masked Beast into his graveyard. All that strategy gone to waste with Bakura's single armor card. Well, now Marik had no monster out on the field, and Bakura activated Necrovalley on his next turn and summoned Gravekeeper's Assailant, which now had 2,000 attack points thanks to the Necrovalley spell card.

"I think the biggest lesson with this new deck of yours is that you can't rely on a single powerful monster to do all the damage for you," Bakura said, as he recorded Marik's score of 3,600. Bakura still had 7,500.

"Don't lecture me," Marik snapped, drawing a card.

Bakura smirked. "The point of these games is to teach you how to play better, so that when you get to the tournament finals, you can actually beat top opponents."

Marik didn't reply, as he placed Insect Knight on the field, and raised its attack to 2,900 with the Mask of Brutality. "I attack your Assailant with the Insect Knight for 900 damage," he said. He just had to start slow, and then he'd get the upper hand again.

Bakura shook his head, looking at him mockingly. "Didn't I tell you not to rely on powered-up monsters?" He flipped up Defense Draw, and although Bakura's Assailant was destroyed, he received zero damage at the end of the battle phase.

"My turn, then," Bakura said, while Marik glared at him from the other side of the table. "I'm setting two cards face down and this monster face down in defense mode. Your turn."

Marik felt pained to do so, but he paid 1,000 life points to keep the Mask of Brutality, and summoned Melchid the Four-Face Beast, attacking the face down monster with it. He had no other choice but to attack, unless he wanted to allow Bakura to summon a slew of monsters each turn without doing anything to stop them.

Bakura flipped over his monster. "Gravekeeper's Commandant has 2,000 defense because of Necrovalley, and your monster only has 1,500 attack points, so you lose 500 life points," Bakura said.

At that point, it hit Marik that there wasn't really anything in this new deck of his that he could use to stop Bakura. He relied on his high-powered attack monsters, but the moment Bakura destroyed them, he had nothing else to counter with. "I attack your monster with my Insect Knight," Marik said, realizing too late that he should have just used the Knight to attack his face down card to begin with.

But there was really nothing Marik could do now. In the next turn, Bakura managed to wipe out the Insect Knight, and attacked Marik's remaining life points with another Gravekeeper monster.

When Bakura finally won the duel, Marik gave a long sigh, and stood up from the table. He really hadn't wanted to lose this game. The bet came back to him, and the implications hit him full force. Loser gets fucked, after all.

Bakura glanced at him, gauging his reaction. "You're okay with doing it now?" he asked, putting away the cards.

"Yeah," Marik replied. He'd agreed to the bet- had initiated it, actually- so there was no reason to postpone it until later. Whether it was him or Bakura doing the fucking, it was still what he wanted. The sex. The distraction. Though, of course, he would have enjoyed it a lot more if he was the one fucking Bakura, not the other way around.

Ten minutes later, they had made it to the bedroom and had fully undressed, although as usual, Marik still kept his shirt on. Marik lay down against the sheets, still looking tense after the duel, as Bakura coated his own hands with the bottle of lube. He worked the slippery lubrication over his fingers, feeling the tendrils of anticipation grow in the pit of his stomach.

"Ready?" Bakura asked, crawling up on the bed beside Marik.

Marik's eyes flashed to Bakura's wet hands before he nodded.

He drew closer to Marik, rustling against the sheets, and started to stretch him out. His hand brushed against Marik's inner thigh before he slipped one finger into his asshole, moving inward slowly and carefully.

Marik immediately tensed up, but Bakura took his time and pushed his finger in and out in a suggestive motion, feeling himself grow hard at that action alone. It was so warm inside. Warm, and wet, and soft. He was impatient to get in, but he needed to be sure that Marik was ready first. The last time he'd fucked Marik, he hadn't seemed to enjoy it all that much.

Bakura slipped in a second finger, making the same slow and thorough motion, coating him with the slippery lubrication, and watched as Marik's breath caught, and his hands clenched and unclenched of their own accord.

"Okay- I think I'm ready," Marik said shakily, and Bakura pulled his hand out.

He lubricated his own cock next, pumping up and down the length a few times to make sure he was as hard as he could get. He didn't miss the way Marik glanced down at him and watched fixedly.

Bakura then moved closer to Marik, and grabbed one of his thighs to keep steady, using the other hand to guide himself. He pushed in slowly.

Marik's body clenched, and he grimaced as Bakura worked his way in.

"You're fine?"

"I'm fine," Marik breathed.

As Bakura slid in deeper and deeper, the feeling of finally being inside Marik again overtook him. His cock pulsed as he settled inside, and Bakura could tell that Marik felt it, as he gripped the sheets on either side of him.

It was incredible. Bakura still couldn't believe how amazing this felt. He pulled back slightly and pushed back in, starting a slow rhythm as he gripped the back of Marik's thighs to steady them both. Keeping it slow was tearing him apart. It was all he could do not to slam hard into Marik, but he didn't want it to end as fast as it had last time.

Marik suddenly groaned as Bakura's pace picked up and he was thrusting in earnest now, though Bakura knew that it was still in pain, or discomfort at least. Marik's cock was a bit hard already, but he still didn't look like he was really enjoying it.

Bakura adjusted, trying to look for that perfect angle. By Marik's reaction, he still couldn't seem to find it. His hands slipped up and down Marik's thighs, caressing him, as he started thrusting harder and harder. He couldn't help it. The sensation of Marik's warm asshole, wrapped so tightly around his cock, was driving him crazy. Slippery, hot, and wet with each thrust, and he needed to be deeper.

Marik's breath came out in a short gasp suddenly, and Bakura could tell that he was at least a little more turned on now. He experimented with thrusting at a different angle again, but he couldn't manage to get Marik to gasp like that again.

Finally, Bakura couldn't take it anymore, and he gave himself over to the feeling, slamming into Marik so hard and fast now that lights bounced behind his eyelids. The bed creaked beneath them with each thrust, and the sheets became a frenzied mess as Bakura began to reach his peak, that sense of being right on the edge and pleasured beyond belief.

Then he came inside Marik, exploding so quickly that he let out a moan before he could help it. He rode out his orgasm and continued thrusting, gradually slowing down, until he stopped completely and finally slipped out.

Immediately, he noticed that Marik was truly hard now. His face was flushed, and he still clutched the sheets tightly as he eyed Bakura.

"Do you want me to-" Bakura started, looking down at Marik's cock indicatively.

Marik looked like he wanted to scream _yes!_ at Bakura, but instead he said, still catching his breath, "You don't- don't have to, it- it wasn't part of the bet."

But Bakura smirked at him, before moving closer again and wrapping his hand around the base of Marik's cock. "You did it for me once, when it wasn't part of the bet."

Plus, Bakura thought, he couldn't help doing it anyway. Marik looked incredibly hot right then, his face still flushed and his blond bangs partly covering his eyes as he stared at Bakura.

Marik had nothing to say to that. The moment Bakura's fingers wrapped around his cock and he started stroking him, Marik squeezed his eyes shut, and squirmed with each stroke. Bakura's hand was still slippery from the lube as he rubbed his fingers up and down Marik's length, and Marik seemed to appreciate the sensation as he quietly moaned.

It didn't take more than a minute for Marik to come. He opened his eyes and watched as Bakura pumped him until he was completely done.

"Thanks," Marik said, still breathless, and laid back against the sheets, closing his eyes again and relaxing.

Bakura felt bone-weary himself. He thought he should probably get dressed and leave Marik's bedroom, but he was too tired to move. He rolled onto his back beside Marik, and sighed deeply.

Marik shifted, and Bakura listened as his breath evened out, and soon enough, Marik fell asleep.

He thought he should probably leave now, but the sheets were warm and smooth against his back, and he didn't even want to stand up long enough to collapse onto the couch in the other room.

He closed his eyes, and soon enough, he was asleep too.


	14. Chapter 14

It was late. Marik had already logged his hours and was about to leave work, when he noticed his sister standing by the gift shop counter.

"Marik," Ishizu greeted him. "Heading home for the night?"

Marik nodded, feeling the weight of the day's events. It had been the usual hassle. The co-workers, the customers, the slow hours.

"I was hoping I could talk to you for a moment."

Marik looked up, thinking it unusual that Ishizu wanted to talk during closing hours. Normally, Marik visited his brother and sister during the weekends, when all three of them caught up and talked for a while. Sometimes, he only met with Ishizu, because he didn't feel right burdening Rishid with his problems. After all, Marik had burdened Rishid enough during the Battle City tournament, and so he didn't want to trouble his brother with more issues if he could help it.

"Sure," Marik finally replied. "Is everything okay?"

"Yes, everything is fine," Ishizu said. "I just wanted to talk to you about the Millennium Rod, and the way that the museum is planning to find the item."

"Right, that." Marik wasn't sure where this conversation was headed, though his jaw clenched as he remembered what the museum was planning to do. "You're going to have Seto Kaiba fly over here to find it."

"Indeed. And I wanted to be clear on why I think this works out well for you."

"For me?" Marik looked surprised.

"This is in your favor, Marik," Ishizu said. "I know you've wanted to help out with the digging for a while now, but I think it would be best if you let the museum officials go ahead with this plan. In the long run, they will be less skeptical of you. They will have less of a reason to distrust you."

Marik considered her words. "You think they'll trust me more?"

"I can't deny that they still have their doubts about you, and are still reserved about your change after the Battle City tournament," Ishizu said. "But if you focus on your work, and let this time pass as we're finding the items, I think they'll look at you more favorably. In fact, you will probably be promoted within the museum much faster."

"I see," Marik said. He knew that his sister meant well, and that she strongly believed that this solution was best for Marik. She didn't want him to fight the officials. She wanted him to let it be, instead of trying to argue with his superiors.

Finally, Marik smiled back at her. "I understand what you mean. They just need time to see that I've gotten better."

"Right." Ishizu smiled again. "And I hope that soon enough, they'll realize that."

"I see," Marik repeated. "Thank you, sister."

After a few more exchanges, they told each other goodnight and parted ways. As Marik left, he felt a bitter taste on his tongue. A sinking feeling.

He shook his head, got on his motorcycle, and finally headed home.

 

* * *

  
Marik came home with spinning thoughts, and so immediately after dinner, he and Bakura laid out their cards and Marik asked for a bet.

Bakura cocked his head, thinking.

"Alright," he finally said as he drew himself five cards. "How about the loser gets fucked-"

"Okay," Marik said quickly, drawing his own cards.

"-and, the loser also has to take his shirt off."

Marik stopped mid-draw. He glanced across the table at Bakura and was met with a giant smirk. "Well, that's not very fair, is it?" Marik said. "I've already fucked you with your shirt off, so there's not much in it for me."

Bakura's smirk faded, as though he just realized the flaw in his logic. "Okay, how about the winner gets to do anything to the loser- as long as it's something we've already done before? Of course, that includes the loser having to take his shirt off...but if you win, you can do _anything_ you want to me."

Marik thought for a moment, then shrugged. "Alright. I accept the bet."

They flipped a coin and Marik won the toss, letting him go first. Marik placed a Darkfire Soldier #1 on the field, but couldn't attack yet, so he immediately ended his turn.

Bakura stared at his cards for a long time, his eyes darting across each card and scrutinizing every detail. Marik watched impatiently as Bakura's eyebrows knitted and he unconsciously ran the tip of his tongue across his bottom lip as he sat, deep in thought. After three minutes, Marik got tired of it, and kicked Bakura in the shin underneath the table.

"Go already, will you? I don't want to sit here all night if you're going to be that slow," Marik huffed.

"Eager to be fucked, are you?" Bakura teased, as he finally made his move.

Marik blinked, staring down at the card Rescue Cat. "It took you that long just to play that?"

Bakura gave him a devilish smirk. "Not just that. Watch."

Next, Bakura played Last Will, which dictated that if a monster on Bakura's side of the field was sent to the graveyard, he could Special Summon a monster of 1500 attack points or less from his deck during this turn. Rescue Cat's effect was to bring out two Level 3 or lower Beast-type monsters on the field, which would be automatically destroyed at the end of the battle phase.

Bakura chose two Milus Radiants, which had the effect of increasing the attack of all Earth monsters by 500 points, effectively raising each Milus Radiant to 1300 attack points.

Marik snorted. "That's still not enough to defeat my Darkfire Soldier. You'll have to do better than that."

Bakura said nothing as he placed Rescue Cat into the graveyard. "Because I played Last Will, I can Special Summon my Rescue Cat back to the field, and use its effect again to raise another two low-level Beast monsters."

As Bakura chose another Milus Radiant from his deck and a Des Wombat, now having a total of four Earth-type monsters on the field– three of them Milus Radiants that could each raise Earth monsters by an extra 500 attack points– the strategy finally clicked in Marik's head, and he gave Bakura an incredulous look.

"They each have...1,800 attack points!" Marik said, doing the math in his head quickly. "And the Wombat has 3,100!"

"That's a total of 8,500 attack points," Bakura said. "And to make sure I finish you off completely, I'm going to equip my Des Wombat with Gaia Power, giving all my Earth monsters an extra 500 attack points. So we're at 10,500 points of total damage now."

Marik gazed at Bakura's side of the field, blinking. This couldn't be true. In one turn, Bakura had raised four monsters, each Milus Radiant with now 2,300 attack points, and the Des Wombat at 3,600.

"I destroy your Darkfire Soldier," Bakura said. "And you lose the rest of your life points."

Marik sat still for a second. Bakura had done it all in one turn. One turn. That's all it had taken to wipe out all 8,000 of his life points.

"What the hell!" Marik finally burst out. "I can't believe you just took out all my life points! I didn't even get to do anything!"

"I wasn't kidding around, Marik," Bakura smirked. "I wanted to win this bet."

Marik heaved an aggravated sigh, still reeling at Bakura's strategy. He hadn't even had a chance in this game. And here he'd thought they'd be playing all night at the rate Bakura was going.

"Alright, I guess we still have the rest of the night," Marik said begrudgingly. "Might as well get started."

Shortly after putting away their cards, they made their way to the bedroom.

Bakura crossed his arms over his chest and looked at Marik. "Well?"

Marik dropped his eyes, looking down at his shirt. Finally, he grasped the hem, and began to pull it up. Barely an inch of his skin was exposed before he seemed to lose his nerve and let his shirt fall back into place. He took a deep breath, and tried again. He didn't make it much farther that time before letting his shirt drop again. He went through this routine several more times before finally settling on just fiddling with the hem of his shirt, his fingers twisting as he continued to look down.

Bakura sighed and approached Marik. When he put his hands on Marik's hips, Marik practically jumped out of his skin.

"Let's just start with your pants," Bakura said.

Marik relaxed a little at Bakura's words. Bakura slipped his fingers under the waistband of Marik's jeans. His fingers slid along Marik's waistline, until his hands met in the middle and he popped open the button on Marik's jeans. He took down the zipper, and then he was pulling Marik's pants and boxers down in one motion.

For the moment, he stood back, and Marik stepped out of the clothing pooled at his feet.

Marik moved forward and grabbed Bakura's shirt. "I don't- I don't want to be totally naked when you're fully clothed."

Bakura nodded, and Marik reached underneath his shirt, sliding his hands from his stomach to his chest. Bakura stood calmly as Marik stripped him of his shirt, and then started working on his jeans. It seemed as if Marik was going as slowly as possible, trying to delay things, but he was running his hands all over Bakura's skin as he undressed him, and Bakura was already starting to get hard.

When Bakura was finally naked, he lay down on the bed, and motioned for Marik to follow. He did so, reluctantly.

Once Marik was lying next to him, Bakura reached for his shirt, and Marik flinched. "Do you want to back out?"

"No, I- I said I'd do it," Marik said. "I promised this to you a long time ago, actually." But he flipped over onto his stomach and put his face in the pillow, as if he didn't want to look at Bakura when he saw his scars for the first time.

"You did," was all that Bakura said. He grabbed onto Marik's shirt, and though Marik's body stiffened, he didn't pull away this time.

He slowly pulled the shirt over Marik's head, and was struck almost breathless by what he saw. The design on Marik's back was intricate, almost elegant. It was clear that it had been carved carefully, meticulously.

"I'm going to touch," Bakura said, wanting to warn Marik so that he wasn't surprised.

He reached down and brushed his fingers over the wing-like shapes on Marik's shoulders, and Marik shuddered in discomfort.

"It's okay," Bakura said.

His fingers began tracing over the complex design, and he thought of how long it must have taken to get it to look exactly like this. It was impossible to look at these scars without thinking of how much pain Marik had had to go through, and for how long, and how much courage it must have taken to get through it. "This must have taken-"

"It took forever," Marik said.

Bakura placed his palms flat against Marik's lower back, and then slid them upwards, gently. "No," Bakura said. "It's over. And you made it through. This isn't ugly. It shows your strength."

And it wasn't ugly, he thought, as he ran his hands over Marik's back. Because of everything it meant, it looked beautiful. His hands began to travel back down, and then, impulsively, he leaned down and placed a quick kiss between Marik's shoulder blades. He felt Marik relax a tiny bit, so he did it again, kissing a little lower. He heard Marik sigh, and then he stopped thinking, letting his hands roam over Marik's back, his face still only inches away.

"Oh, you're-" but he stopped himself from finishing the thought, his lips meeting Marik's skin again. It was good, good to be allowed to touch him this way.

"Bakura-"

Marik's voice was barely above a whisper, but Bakura snapped out of his reverie, feeling strangely embarrassed now. Marik had finally turned his head to the side, so that Bakura could see his face, and Marik's eyes were wide and questioning.

Bakura sat up quickly. "You ever had a back rub?" He spoke so fast that his words almost ran together.

"Of course not," said Marik, scowling, and somehow the scowl made Bakura instantly feel more comfortable.

"Well, you'll like it," Bakura said, as he began to knead his fingers into Marik's shoulders. "It's relaxing."

Bakura wasn't any kind of expert at giving back rubs, but he tried to do what Marik had done to him once before, and as he went on, his hands rubbing further down along Marik's spine, he thought that he did feel Marik begin to relax even more, and he took satisfaction in the knowledge that not only was Marik allowing him to do this, but that Marik was calming underneath his touch.

So he continued, massaging the muscles, trying to work the tension out of them, until he looked down and saw that Marik's eyes were half-closed, and that his face seemed to show no anxiety, as though he'd forgotten why he had been so nervous about this in the first place. Bakura felt a rush of desire at the sight.

"See, I told you," Bakura said, smiling as he took his hands away. "Alright, now flip over."

Marik did as he was told without a word. He parted his legs, knowing what was coming- Bakura had won the bet, after all. He closed his eyes, hearing Bakura pop open the cap on the bottle of lube.

Suddenly he felt a lubricated hand stroking his cock, and when his eyes snapped open, he saw Bakura straddling him. "Bakura- what are you-"

"You like it better this way," Bakura said gently, as he lowered himself onto Marik's now-hard cock.

Marik gasped as he felt himself enter Bakura. Bakura was lowering himself slowly, and Marik didn't think he'd bothered to prepare himself. Once he was all the way inside, Bakura sat still for a moment, panting slightly, allowing himself get adjusted. He was incredibly tight, and Marik could feel the muscles gripping him, making him desperate for Bakura to begin.

He waited, and finally, Bakura began moving, letting Marik's cock slide almost all the way out of him before sitting back down, taking in as much as he could. As he established a rhythm, Bakura gripped his own erection, sliding his hand up and down. Bakura leaned forward a little, as if trying to find the best angle for himself.

Bakura began going faster, and as Marik saw Bakura's eyes close in apparent pleasure, Marik found that he couldn't move, could barely breathe. The sight of Bakura on top of him like that, touching himself, willingly impaling himself on his cock over and over, panting now in pleasure instead of discomfort- it was too much for him, and he felt himself climbing already, the feeling of Bakura's asshole tight around him bringing him ever closer.

"Bakura," he gasped, his hands gripping the sheets so hard that his knuckles were white. "I can't- can't last-"

"It's alright," Bakura said. And then he echoed words that Marik had spoken to him once before: "Come for me."

That sent Marik over the edge; he couldn't hold back anymore, and he let the pleasure overtake him, the feeling electrifying his entire body, and he gripped onto Bakura's thighs and dug his nails in as he exploded and spilled everything inside of Bakura.

Bakura kept moving for a moment, as the aftershocks coursed through Marik's body. Then Bakura was still, and Marik looked up at him, his breath short. Bakura didn't move away from him, and Marik watched in a daze as Bakura continued to stroke himself. Bakura saw that Marik was watching him intently, and their eyes locked as Bakura's hand moved faster and faster until he finally came onto Marik's stomach with a quiet moan.

Once he was spent, Bakura collapsed directly onto Marik. They were hot and sticky and Bakura was still breathing heavily, and before Marik could think about what he was doing, his arms came up and encircled Bakura. Bakura still didn't move, and after a while, Marik heard Bakura's breathing even out. Marik closed his eyes, and let himself drift off to sleep with the feeling of Bakura's weight on him.

When Bakura woke up, Marik was gone. He slowly realized that something felt different, yet familiar. At first, he couldn't place what it was. Then he looked down and saw it.

The Ring was around his neck. Marik had put it there while he slept.


	15. Chapter 15

It was early evening, and Bakura had just finished stealing another token.

One hand was curled around the little blue token in his left pocket, and the other was curled around the gold Ring in his right one.

A mere stroke of the gold, and Bakura felt its power. He knew the Ring no longer had the capability of initiating Shadow Games- not that he'd want to initiate one anyway- but there was still magic buried in the ancient relic. It wasn't as powerful as the Shadow Games, but it would still be effective should he need to use it. In fact, he'd used this power against Marik's dark side during the Battle City tournament, when he'd slammed Marik's dark self against the wall to prevent him from killing Rishid.

It was this knowledge that had made tonight's steal so incredibly simple. Knowing that he had the Ring again was all it took for Bakura to craftily make his way to the duelist and lift the token. No contrived conversation, no messy missteps, just a swift steal and adrenaline rushing through his body.

He turned the corner and then Marik's apartment was finally in sight.

 

* * *

  
"That was quick," Marik said when Bakura handed him the token as he walked in. "I don't think you were even gone for an hour."

Bakura just smiled as he laid his coat across the couch, and slipped into the kitchen. "The Ring helped," he said simply.

Marik glanced at him. The worry was clear on his face: he wanted to know if Bakura had used the Ring against anyone.

"I didn't actually use it, but it was good to have it anyway," Bakura answered before Marik could ask.

The worry immediately disappeared. "Good. Well, thanks for that-"

Before Marik could finish, there was a sharp knock at the front door, and Bakura turned to Marik with a bewildered look on his face. They practically never had visitors. And if anyone from Luxor should ever find out that Bakura was back, and hiding in Marik's apartment-

The lock suddenly clicked, as if someone had turned the doorknob.

Without even finishing his train of thought, Bakura bolted from the kitchen, through the hallway, and to Marik's bedroom in mere seconds.

Marik strode back into the hallway, just as both his bedroom door shut behind Bakura, and the front door opened and revealed Ishizu, bright and flustered as she walked in.

"Sister," Marik greeted her, his palms breaking out into a sweat as he realized that he had both his sister and Bakura in the same apartment, with merely the stretch of the hallway separating the two. "Is something wrong?"

But Ishizu had a smile on her face.

"Nothing, no. I just came to tell you the good news," she said, still catching her breath, as though she'd walked here quickly. "We found the Millennium Rod today."

"You did?" Marik asked, surprised.

"Seto Kaiba agreed to our arrangement, and with his help, we were finally able to excavate it. You can't imagine how happy and overwhelmed the museum officials are about finally being able to locate the Item. I told them that it was your idea about contacting Seto Kaiba since he had a connection to the Rod, and I think they were impressed that it worked. I think they were impressed by _you_ , Marik."

Marik found himself smiling. "Were they? I'm glad."

Ishizu nodded. "I also told them you had the idea to contact Yugi sometime soon to see if he would help us find the Millennium Puzzle."

So now Yugi might possibly travel down to Egypt, following in the footsteps of Seto Kaiba to find one of the Millennium Items.

"If Yugi travels over here, it's possible that he might want to drop by your apartment and catch up," Ishizu continued.

"Yeah, that should be fine," Marik said, lost in thoughts.

This could really work out for him, Marik was thinking. If the museum officials noticed how useful he could be to the digging project, without him stepping on anyone's toes by actually participating in the excavation, he could really make a name for himself, particularly since they were crediting him with the ideas of contacting both Kaiba and Yugi for the items.

"I really think you stand a great chance at getting a promotion at this rate, Marik," Ishizu said, as if reading his mind. "They're already starting to think highly of you. All you have to do now is stay focused at your job. I think you've been getting a little distracted lately, so you should watch out about that."

Marik sighed. "Yeah, the tournament has really been draining me, but once it's over, I'll definitely work harder at the museum."

"Good," Ishizu said. "As I said, I think this is a great opportunity for you. Make sure you take advantage of it."

"I will," said Marik.

They talked for a little bit longer about the excavation progress and Marik's potential future at the museum, but when Ishizu realized how late it had gotten, she bid Marik goodbye and left.

Marik's head was teeming with thoughts about the conversation as he locked the door behind Ishizu. Foremost was his excitement to win the tournament. He was already starting to impress the people in Luxor, and especially the museum officials. If he won the tournament, he couldn't even imagine how much respect he would get.

His thoughts continued along those lines as he headed back to his room to talk to Bakura.

As he opened the door, he said, "That was close, she almost caught-" Marik stopped mid-sentence when he saw what Bakura was doing.

He was sitting on Marik's bed, casually smoking a cigarette.

"Are you _smoking_ in my _room_?" Marik sounded incredulous.

"Well, I didn't have anything else to do while I was hiding in here waiting for you to get done talking to your sister in that stupid Namu voice of yours." There was an annoyed tone in Bakura's voice, but he looked as casual as ever as he flicked an ash onto the floor.

"Well, stop it!" Marik said. "There's not even an ash tray in here!"

"Who cares?" snapped Bakura.

Marik didn't know why Bakura seemed so irritated- _he_ was the one who should be irritated.

But before Marik could say anything else, Bakura cut him off. "Marik, the way you act around other people, and all these things you say you're planning to do...it isn't you, can't you see that? You're just being totally fake-"

"No, I don't see that, and I told you I don't want to talk about that again," Marik said dismissively. He looked at the floor around Bakura's feet and scowled. "And you're just getting ashes all over the carpet!"

"Fucking hell!" Bakura yelled, throwing the cigarette on the floor and grinding it out with his shoe. "There, happy?"

"Obviously not! What is wrong with you? I can't believe you-"

"Oh, calm down, Marik," said Bakura. "Pretty soon you won't have to worry about your precious carpet getting damaged anymore. Once I'm done stealing tokens for you, I'll be moving on, and you won't see me again."

Marik stopped dead. "Wait, what? Why?"

"Didn't I just hear you say that Yugi could come visit? I told you I never want anything to do with any of those people again, especially him."

Marik shrugged. "So you'll hide in my room while he's here, like you do when my sister comes to visit."

"And what if he finds out I'm here?" Bakura asked. "And that's not even the point. Right now it's your sister dropping by unannounced, and next it will be Yugi, and then what will come after that? Where does it end?"

Marik was bewildered. "I guess it ends there?"

"No!" said Bakura. "Not if you keep going down the road you're on."

Marik shook his head. "I don't get it."

"How can you be so clueless?" Bakura asked vehemently. "You want to be good, to be accepted. And I don't want any part of that. We're on completely different paths, Marik."

"And why does that matter?"

Bakura sighed and looked at Marik derisively. "Marik, where do you think this- this- arrangement- can possibly go in the future? How do you think having me here is going to work out long term, if you get what you want and become a part of respectable society, with a bunch of respectable new friends who can never find out about your association with me?"

"I guess-" Marik faltered. "Well, I guess I never really thought about it."

"Of course you didn't, because you never think about the consequences, you never think beyond today. That's why all your plans failed so badly in the Battle City tournament," said Bakura, the disdain evident in his voice. "Do you really think you can just keep me hidden in a back room for the rest of your life? Was that what you were planning to do?"

"I guess not?" said Marik, looking slightly lost.

"Of course not. You can't keep playing both sides forever, Marik," said Bakura. "You're going to have to choose. If you get all that respect and acceptance that you want so much, I'll be a detriment to you, and you'll be one to me."

Now Marik was staring down at his shoes. "I suppose I never thought of it that way."

"So you realize that I can't stay here indefinitely," said Bakura, slightly more calm now. "Not if you keep trying to be someone you're not, to fit in with these people who would shun the real you-"

"I _told_ you, I've told you time and again, this _is_ the real me!" yelled Marik, snapping his head up, finally back on the defensive. "This is what I've wanted for _years,_ to finally be _normal,_ for people to know I'm a good person, so that I can have a real life, and now I might finally have a chance at that!"

"If that really is the real you, then I don't even know if I want anything to do with that guy," Bakura said flatly, his eyes cold.

Marik opened his mouth as if he were about to respond, but he couldn't seem to come up with anything to say.

So Bakura spoke instead.

"Let me ask you something, Marik. Let's say Ishizu, or Yugi, or someone else, actually does catch me here sometime. It will happen eventually, if I stay long enough. What would you do? Would you admit to them that I've been living here, and that you know I'm not 'reformed,' that I've been stealing things and have no intention of changing? Would you tell them you plan to keep hanging around me, despite their disapproval? Despite the fact that after that, everyone would find out that you were letting a criminal room with you?" Bakura paused, giving Marik a hard look. "Or would you lie and say that I just showed up and that you have nothing to do with me? Knowing that you couldn't keep hiding me after that? Because once they knew I was back, they'd be looking for me, and I'd have to go, because neither of us could risk me getting caught here a second time."

Things finally seemed to be clicking for Marik, and Bakura looked at him steadily. "When everyone finds out I'm here, will you give up everything you've been working for all these years just to continue your association with me?"

Marik took a deep breath, and looked Bakura in the eyes. "No, I guess I wouldn't."

"Then it looks like you've made your choice."

Before Marik could react, Bakura jumped up from the bed and shoved violently past Marik, walking quickly from the room. Marik was stunned for a moment, but then he followed. When he got out to the kitchen, Bakura was almost to the front door.

"Wait- where are you going?"

"I'm going to steal another one of those tokens that are so important to you," said Bakura. "That's why I'm here, right?"

"You just stole a token earlier today. You don't need to steal another one right _now_."

Bakura turned, anger sparking in his eyes. "Yes, I do, because I want to complete my obligation to you as fast as I can so that I can get the hell out of here as soon as possible."

Suddenly, Bakura ripped the Ring from around his neck and tossed it forcefully onto the table, where it went skidding almost to the edge. "Oh, and I can do it without the Ring. I wouldn't want you to worry about me hurting some poor innocent with it, and getting caught, and ruining your reputation."

Marik started toward Bakura, but Bakura turned his back to him and slammed the door in his face.

 

* * *

  
He moved on adrenaline and instinct alone. There was nothing but thunderous turmoil in his head, but he shut it out with quick steps and shallow breaths and roaring blood pounding in his ears. He needed to get this done fast.

Bakura found a duelist. Or rather, he slammed into him. He'd been walking down the winding, dark streets of Luxor so fast that he ran into the bastard before either could even realize what had happened.

The man's duel disk fell upon collision, along with several of his cards.

"Give me your tokens," Bakura demanded, jamming his hand into the man's coat collar and pulling him forward.

"Who the hell are you?" the duelist asked, bewildered.

"Give me your fucking tokens, and I won't hurt you," Bakura growled.

The man attempted to get out of Bakura's grip.

"You fucking asked for it," Bakura said, before he reached back and punched the guy right in his face.

But the man wasn't a wimp, despite his lanky physique. He reeled back from Bakura's punch, but when he looked up, his eyes were narrowed and his jaw was set. Before Bakura could react, the man grabbed Bakura with both of his hands and slammed him into a business complex near the sidewalk.

"Take them from me, then," he said, his voice low and dangerous. "I dare you."

Bakura struggled in the duelist's strong grip before the man's fist looped back and slammed into Bakura's gut, making him double over. His head was pounding from where he'd hit his skull against the concrete building, and his stomach was roiling and clenched tight. He looked up, attempting to stop another oncoming punch, when his blood stilled.

The man pulled a knife from his jacket, and edged closer.

"Fuck," Bakura said under his breath.

Without warning, the duelist slashed the blade across Bakura's side. He felt the fabric tear and the skin break. He bit his lip before he could cry out. Before the duelist could attack again, Bakura tried to thwart him by blocking his arm, but the blade still managed to get a clean cut just above his left eyebrow, and then it slid across his shoulder, slicing through his coat. Bakura's hand instinctively fell to his right pocket, where the Millennium Ring had been just a few hours ago. But it was gone now. He missed the touch of the familiar gold.

Bakura bit his lip hard, trying to ignore the pain, but the wounds were slowing him down. His breath was shallow. He was losing focus. The next series of events became a blur.

He felt the man punch him in the face, making his head slam back against the concrete again. He heard his jeans rip as the knife sliced across his thigh. Then he felt himself being dragged forward by his coat collar, and as he struggled to fight back, the man ran another set of knife strokes across his arm. Everything stung. Bakura fell to his knees, fighting to stay conscious, and then he heard laughter.

"That should teach you better than to attack innocent people for their tokens," he heard.

And then the man was gone.

Bakura lay against the concrete building. His whole body hurt. The blood trickled down his arms, and as the cold night air struck his torn and bruised skin, Bakura glanced up at the light pole gleaming down at him like a useless beacon.

Finally, he shut his eyes against the strong glare, and fell unconscious.


	16. Chapter 16

It must have been almost two in the morning by now, and Bakura had still not returned. Marik had tried to sleep earlier, but after a few hours of flipping back and forth on his bed, he'd turned on the TV and tried to find something to watch. He was now mindlessly clicking from channel to channel, his thoughts less on the late night shows and more on the argument he'd had with Bakura earlier in the evening.

He was still reeling, his fingers drumming against the living room couch as he changed the channel yet again.

Frankly, Marik thought the argument had come out of nowhere. The choice he'd have to make between continuing to associate with Bakura and keeping his growing status at the museum wasn't something he'd thought about previously. Sure, now that Bakura had brought it up, the decision was logical. He wouldn't back out now that his future with the people of Luxor was looking so positive. He wouldn't give up everything he'd been working toward.

And still, he couldn't deny that a part of him shook at the idea of losing Bakura. After all, he would be giving up a friend. His only friend. The man who had stood beside him during the Battle City tournament, and the man who had been his companion in this apartment for months now. Without realizing it, Marik's heart nervously raced at that thought.

Finally, he gave up pretending to watch TV and left the living room.

So much of the apartment was littered with Bakura's things. As Marik walked toward the kitchen, he caught sight of Bakura's t-shirt splayed over the couch; on the kitchen table was Bakura's deck of cards, and on the counter was an unwashed cup that Bakura normally used. It was trivial to dwell on these things, but Marik couldn't help it. It was as though Bakura had rooted himself in Marik's life, and having to eventually lose that companionship was a difficult fact to stomach.

As Marik looked around the kitchen, he caught sight of the clock on the microwave display. It was past two-thirty in the morning already. Bakura should've been home by now. It normally didn't take him longer than a few hours to steal a token, and Bakura had been gone for most of the night.

A gnawing fear settled in the pit of Marik's stomach, and finally making up his mind, he grabbed the motorcycle keys from the counter, threw on his shoes, and left the apartment.

 

* * *

  
He'd been looking for hours when he finally saw a white-haired figure sitting on a bench by the side of the road.

He immediately brought his motorcycle to a halt. The white-haired man was leaning forward, resting his head in his hands. He didn't even look up when Marik dismounted and approached him.

"Bakura?"

"What."

Then Marik saw the blood.

Marik breathed in deeply, trying to slow the beating of his heart. "What the hell happened to you?"

Bakura finally lifted his head. The glow from a nearby streetlamp illuminated the red slash above his left eye. "What's it look like? I got into a fight."

"What- how?"

"Trying to steal one of your damn tokens, of course."

"Well, do you- do you need to go to a hospital?" It was hard to assess the extent of Bakura's injuries in the dim light, but Marik could see the rips in his clothing, and the red stains splattered across his coat and jeans.

"I think going to a hospital is a little high-profile for someone trying to hide his existence."

Marik thought for a moment. "Well are you- are you going to be alright?"

"I'll live," said Bakura tonelessly.

Marik didn't think that was much of an answer. "Look, can you- can you at least tell me how badly you're hurt?"

Bakura sighed. "It's nothing. The guy had a knife, but I don't think any of the cuts are very deep. Other than that, I got punched a few times and got my head slammed into a wall. I've had worse."

Marik suddenly felt angry, and he didn't know why. "And were you just planning to sit here all night? You didn't come back, I didn't know where you were-"

"I don't answer to you," Bakura snapped. "The guy knocked me out, and when I woke up, I found some place to sit and rest. Do I have a curfew now, or something?"

"No, I just- I was worried about you, and-"

Bakura raised an eyebrow. "Worried?"

"Of course, you're my best-" But Marik cut himself off when he saw the angry look on Bakura's face. "-best chance at getting into the tournament," he finished lamely.

There was a pause, and then Marik composed himself somewhat. "And we still have a deal," he said firmly.

"So you want me to go back with you," said Bakura dully.

"Well, of course!" Marik said. "What the hell else are you going to do?"

But Bakura only glared at him.

"Look, you're hurt," said Marik. "And even if you don't want to go to a hospital, you have to go somewhere to do something about your injuries. You don't have anyplace else to go."

Bakura still said nothing, and Marik clenched his fists, trying to tamp down his frustration. "You can't just stay out here all night...all of tomorrow...Bakura, come _home_."

Finally, Bakura rose from the bench, looking at Marik stonily. "Well, I suppose I have no other choice, do I?"

"No, you don't," said Marik. "And besides, once you're better, you still have more tokens to steal for me before our bargain is complete. And I assume you're not backing out. So let's go."

Marik got onto his motorcycle, ignoring the resentful look that Bakura was giving him, and motioned to the back seat. Bakura got on wordlessly.

"Try to hang onto me as tight as you can," said Marik.

Then they were off, and in almost no time at all, they were back at the apartment.

Marik unlocked the door and then stood aside, allowing Bakura to enter. Then he shut the door behind them.

"Alright, take your clothes off and go lay down on my bed," said Marik.

Bakura's eyes widened. " _What_?"

Marik stood silent for a moment before he realized what Bakura thought he was implying. "Not that, you freak!" Marik exclaimed, affronted. "You should lie down some place comfortable, because you need to rest. You probably have a concussion. And you need to take off your shirt and jeans so we can do something about your cuts. They need to be disinfected. I think I have some hydrogen peroxide in the bathroom."

Bakura didn't respond, but stumbled off to the bedroom.

A few minutes later, Marik came into the bedroom with a bottle of disinfectant and a wet wash cloth. He climbed onto the bed next to Bakura and touched the cloth to one of the cuts on his arm.

"Ow!" Bakura narrowed his eyes at Marik. "I'm capable of doing that myself."

"I know, but you don't have to," Marik said, continuing to clean the blood off. "You should just rest."

Bakura snorted, but didn't argue further.

Marik slowly ran the cloth across Bakura's face, making sure to work carefully on each cut and bruise, and periodically poured more disinfectant on the cloth. Bakura didn't hiss or groan, but he immediately tensed whenever Marik washed the nastier, deeper wounds. As he worked, the white cloth became stained with the dried blood he'd cleaned off of Bakura's body.

After some time of silence, Marik asked, "You're not going to try to run off, are you?"

"I suppose not," Bakura sighed. "Like you said, I suppose I have nowhere else to go. And I won't back out of our deal. I'll stay until I'm finished stealing all the tokens you need."

Marik pressed a clean cloth into the disinfectant bottle and continued cleaning Bakura's shoulders and arms, which were significantly bloodier and more bruised than his face. It was really a pity seeing Bakura in this state, but Marik found that he didn't mind cleaning him up. He rubbed a few slow circles into Bakura’s arm as if to comfort him as he pressed more hydrogen peroxide around his wounds, and Bakura’s tense muscles seemed to unwind a bit.

Marik glanced down at Bakura, and found his piercing brown eyes staring back. Suddenly, something came to the tip of Marik’s tongue.

"Hey, Bakura? I know you want to rush out of here as soon as you're done stealing tokens for me, and I do understand why you have to leave, but...do you think you could just stay until the entire tournament is over?" Before Bakura could answer, Marik went on quickly. "It would just be really helpful to me if you stuck around to help me practice until the end of the tournament. I'd really appreciate it."

Marik paused and looked directly at Bakura. " _Please._ "

Bakura rolled his eyes. "Fine, I suppose it won't make much of a difference in the long run," he finally said. "But you understand that when the last day of the tournament comes, I'm gone."

"I understand," said Marik.

Marik started cleaning the wound on Bakura's leg, working the cloth over the skin and taking care not to be too rough with the open cuts. Bakura was still tense, but it seemed like Marik's continuous movements were becoming more soothing to him, and he was relaxing.

He reached back to Bakura's shoulders, making another sweep across the wounds, and as he did so, he brushed his fingers against the soft skin. Sometimes, the paleness of Bakura's skin still surprised Marik, and he found the contrast between his hands and Bakura's shoulders to be fascinating. Before he could help it, Marik leaned down and brushed his lips against a bruise on Bakura's left shoulder.

Bakura tensed slightly, but Marik was undeterred. He propped himself up on his arm and bent forward over Bakura's face, leaning down until his lips were hovering over the cut above Bakura's left eye. Softly, Marik placed a kiss onto the cut, being careful to be as gentle as possible with the injury.

"What the hell are you doing?" snapped Bakura. "If you kiss me one more time, I will kill you. I will slit your throat and leave you bleeding on the floor."

Marik lay his head next to Bakura's, looking at him as he placed a hand on Bakura's cheek and brushed his hair back.

"It will be worth it," Marik said quietly.

Marik leaned forward, and then he placed a kiss on Bakura's lips, soft and lingering. Marik opened his eyes in time to see that Bakura had closed his, and as he pulled away, he heard Bakura's quiet gasp.

For a moment, neither moved. Then Bakura's eyes snapped open and he shoved Marik away. "What the hell is wrong with you? Get away from me!"

Marik just smiled. "I'll go try to find some bandages."

Marik gave Bakura another smile over his shoulder as he turned to leave the room.

When he returned, he threw the bandages on the bed, and started working on wrapping up the cuts on Bakura's arm and leg. Bakura sat still, his breathing more jagged now, and waited patiently. As Marik worked, his hands kept brushing against Bakura's warm skin, and he couldn't help caressing it as he tied the bandages.

When Marik's fingers swept across Bakura's torso, he reached down lower before he could help it, and smiled.

"Oh, you're hard," said Marik, running his fingers lightly over the bulge in Bakura's boxers.

"Well what do you expect?" Bakura said, defensive. "I'm practically naked and you're touching me!"

Without a word, Marik pulled Bakura's erection out of his boxer shorts and leaned down to kiss it, taking the tip into his mouth slightly, a gesture that was affectionate and lustful at the same time.

Bakura's breath caught. "Are- are you really going to-"

Before answering, Marik licked across the underside of Bakura's cock and back again, running his tongue along the ridge, pausing in the middle to flick, drawing a gasp from Bakura.

"Yeah, but only because you're hurt," Marik said. "I know you're in pain and I want you to feel good for a while."

Marik then leaned down again and dipped his tongue into the slit, lapping up the liquid that was already leaking out. Bakura gasped again.

"Please don't tease me," Bakura said, breathless. "I can't take it right now."

"Alright," Marik said quietly.

He kissed the tip one more time, and then finally took it all the way into his mouth.

Bakura's breath instantly sped up as Marik licked the soft skin. He loved Bakura's reactions; he could never get enough of them.

Marik opened his mouth wider and slipped his tongue along each side of Bakura's dick, swirling around it slowly. Bakura's hands slid into his hair as he sighed and edged closer, pushing himself deeper into Marik's mouth. His breath caught as Marik started pumping at the base of his dick in time with the movements of his tongue. He increased the pace, sucking him in deep and swallowing more of the liquid that slipped out.

He felt Bakura lose control quickly. He quivered and moaned softly, clutching Marik's hair tighter as if trying to hold on to the moment. It seemed like all the touching Marik had done earlier had already gotten him excited, and he was close. And then, throwing his head back suddenly, he thrust once into Marik's mouth and finally came.

Marik continued running his tongue across the length, swallowing the come, and then drew back.

Bakura glanced down at Marik, still breathing quickly. "Thanks," he gasped.

Marik smiled, standing up. "No problem."

He gathered up the extra bandages and supplies he'd used on Bakura and placed them back in the bathroom. When he returned to the bedroom, Bakura was still lying in his bed, turned to the side with the blanket splayed over his bandaged body and already fast asleep.

Marik smiled.

He readied for bed, shut off the lights, and wrapped himself up in the edge of the blanket Bakura wasn't using. It was so late at night by now that the moment Marik's head hit the pillow, he went straight to sleep.


	17. Chapter 17

It was late Saturday morning when the bedroom door suddenly burst open and Marik walked in carrying a breakfast tray. Bakura was startled awake by the sound of the door slamming open and watched blearily as Marik placed the tray on a night stand.

"Is this for me?" Bakura raised his eyebrows.

Marik just nodded shortly and sat down on the bed beside Bakura, moving the tray onto the bedspread between them. Bakura eyed the steak on his plate, and feeling his stomach rumble, he immediately dove into the meat without another word.

It was still a little awkward between them after the conversation they'd had the day before, and Bakura's imprudent fight with the duelist. Marik silently ate his plate of ful- a bean stew he'd learned how to make from Ishizu- and a type of bread called aysh. Bakura wrinkled his nose at Marik's vegetarian food but he refrained from making any comments since Marik had made him steak.

They ate in silence. Marik glanced at Bakura's wounds, and realized that he'd have to change the bandages and reapply medicine to his cuts. It was really dumb the way Bakura had just attacked the stranger for his token. Dumb and unnecessary, since Bakura hadn't even gotten the token.

After toying with the last of his food for a while, Marik finally turned toward Bakura. "How did this even happen?" He nodded at Bakura's wounds.

Bakura gazed at Marik levelly. "What do you mean?"

"I mean, how did you even get hurt this badly? Did you just walk up to the guy and start punching him, or what?"

"Well, yeah." Bakura shrugged nonchalantly. "I went over to him and demanded his token, and then when he wouldn't give it to me, I started punching him."

Bakura's bravado wasn't helping his case. Marik narrowed his eyes, set down his fork, and moved the tray aside. "That was really stupid of you," he started, and Bakura shot him a dirty look. "First of all, you got hurt. If you'd been careful and not gone starting fights with strangers, you probably wouldn't be in this condition right now."

Bakura opened his mouth to protest, but Marik continued.

"Second of all, you're not even supposed to be drawing attention to yourself like this. If someone had caught you, or if you'd managed to beat up the guy and won, someone might have found out, and that would've been my ass on the line, too."

"No one even saw me," Bakura said, his hands clenched around the bedspread and his knuckles bony and white. "You should give me a little more credit than that. It's not like I attacked him where people could see us."

Marik ignored him, continuing. Now that he'd started talking, all the thoughts that had been tumbling through his mind all morning were coming out. "You still attacked him in the middle of the street. Plus, I told you that I don't want you to hurt people. I don't want you starting trouble for no reason-"

Bakura suddenly threw his hands up, and pointed at his own face and shoulders. "Are you seeing this? I wasn't the one who hurt _him_."

"Clearly not, but you intended to hurt the guy. If he hadn't had the pocket knife, you could have seriously hurt him, and I already told you I don't want you doing that."

Bakura opened his mouth to retort, but Marik cut him off again.

"And another thing," he continued. "Why didn't you take the Ring with you? You left the house all furious and in a hurry, and just left the Ring. That guy could've killed you, do you realize that? I don't want you to use the Ring to hurt anyone, but if you get yourself into a dangerous situation like that, you need to be more prepared."

There was really no logical thing for Bakura to say to that, so he just glared at Marik, his hands still clenched into fists. "Would you quit your bitching already?" he finally snapped. "I'm still in pain, and your nagging isn't really doing anything to help."

"Well, don't you agree with that I'm saying? It was all your fault that you're even in this much pain to begin with-"

"Seriously, Marik, if you don't shut up about it, I'm just going to throw this food on your precious carpet."

Marik realized that Bakura had nothing else to say. They both knew he'd made a mistake the night before, but Bakura was too proud to admit it outright.

"Fine," Marik finally said. "Just don't go out trying to hurt people again."

Bakura didn't respond, but Marik knew that he agreed.

After that, Marik put away the breakfast tray, and they decided to have a duel. Bakura was still irritable after the fight they'd had over breakfast, but neither of them brought up the subject again.

They started the duel, and for a while, neither had the upper hand for too long. They had agreed not to bet for anything, so they were mainly playing to give Marik some practice. After some time, the score stood at 4,000 life points for Bakura, and 5,200 for Marik, and it was Bakura's turn.

"I attack your face-down card with my Darkfire Soldier," Bakura said, putting his newly-summoned monster on the field.

Marik smiled, flipping over his face-down card. It was the 4-Starred Ladybug of Doom, which destroys all four-star monsters, and so Bakura's Darkfire Soldier along with two of his other monsters went to the graveyard. Bakura swore under his breath, since he now had no monsters on the field, and ended his turn.

Summoning the Gravekeeper's Assailant, Marik then attacked Bakura's empty side of the field with the Assailant, which had 2,000 attack points due to the additional 500 from the field card Necrovalley, and used his Ladybug to take out an additional 800 life points, leaving Bakura with a total of 1200.

Bakura gritted his teeth, watching his points dwindle, while Marik threw him a self-satisfied smirk, and said, "I'd say I'm getting a little better now, wouldn't you?"

They continued dueling for a while, and after Bakura got the upper hand again, they started talking about things other than the duel. They returned to the subject of the previous day, when Ishizu had mentioned that Yugi might be contacted to find the Puzzle.

"I can't believe they're going to bring that stupid kid over here," Bakura grumbled, picking up a card. "It was bad enough that they had to bring Kaiba, but now Yugi, too?"

Marik shrugged. "Just ignore Yugi if he does show up. It should be easy enough for you to stay out of his way until he leaves again."

Bakura didn't look assuaged. "Well, are you actually going to invite him to the apartment?"

Marik looked up at Bakura, sensing the anger laced so thinly in his words. "Well, it would be polite of me to invite him over if he shows up. I don't have any reason to say no if he wants to visit me."

Bakura looked down at his cards, saying nothing, and Marik noticed that his fingers were pressed more tightly against the plastic cards. "You don't want him over here at all," Marik stated.

Bakura's gaze was glacial. "Obviously."

The next turn went by in silence. Bakura's face was tense and his lips were drawn thin. He was putting so much effort into looking focused on the game that Marik knew this conversation must really be bothering him.

Suddenly, Marik placed down his cards, and asked, "Why do you hate Yugi so much anyway?"

Bakura didn't even look up. He glanced through his hand, and placed a card face-down in the trap and magic area of the field, ignoring Marik's question.

"What has that kid done to get you this upset, even years later?"

Bakura scoffed. "You really think that brat's upsetting me? He's just a snotty-nosed little runt who can't even duel for himself. Why the hell would I care enough to be upset?"

If the tone of the conversation wasn't so serious, Marik would have laughed. It was so obvious that Bakura cared. He cared so much that having Yugi in the same city- in the same apartment- as Bakura was too much for him to bear.

"I don't know," Marik said, crossing his arms. "You tell me."

But Bakura kept his mouth shut. They continued dueling, but the subject of Yugi wasn't closed yet. It was still a gaping, gloomy hole between them, waiting for either one to approach it again. At one point, Marik nearly wiped out all of Bakura's points with the monster Jirai Gumo, and Bakura nearly flipped his chair as he stood in anger. His eyes were bright, feverish. His jaw was clenched and his whole body was tense with fury.

"What's all this about, Bakura?" Marik finally said when Bakura had sat back down. "You're not angry about the duel. You're angry about something else. So what is it?"

"I'm not fucking angry."

Bakura was shaking.

"Right. Because getting this upset over a duel where we're not even betting is not being 'fucking angry.' You're still pissed about Yugi and I want to know why. Clearly, this kid did something to get you this mad-"

"Would you just leave that alone?" Bakura burst out.

"Does it have to do with your revenge? Are you upset that he and his stupid crew stopped you in the end?" Marik continued. He knew that the only way to get Bakura to talk was to prod him. He had to keep asking questions, keep making guesses, because otherwise Bakura would hide the anger inside himself. He would keep it locked up tightly, would dwell on it, would let it linger like poison in his veins. "Are you upset that he-" Marik started again.

"Yes!" Bakura finally snapped. "Of course I'm pissed that he stopped me. I'd been chasing vengeance for thousands of years, and then along comes a brat like Yugi and takes away any chance that I had."

Bakura took a deep breath, and Marik knew that he'd finally succeeded in getting him to talk.

"Do you have any idea how long I was stuck in the Ring? I spent millennia trapped in there, and all I could do was plan. I thought about every step I needed to take. I dreamed about the moment I would finally be free to avenge my people. And all it took was one person, one dark game, to waste the thousands of years I spent planning."

The fury in Bakura's face gave way to a grimace. It hurt him to talk about this. The bitterness was streaked across his face like tears.

"And in the end, he was the big hero," Bakura continued. "He was the one who succeeded, and I got trapped in the Ring for another three years because of him. I waited thousands of years for my chance to get vengeance, and it all ended with him."

Bakura stopped, breathing fast. He ran a hand through his hair, and the effort of speaking about his past showed.

"Is that it?" Marik asked. "Is that everything?"

Bakura took a moment to gather himself, and slowly shook his head. "I don't care about Yugi- I really don't. But having him over here is going to remind me about it all over again. And do you really think I want that? I don't want anything to do with Yugi or any of his friends. I just want to forget about all that, and live my life."

Bakura gave Marik a long look, his jaw still set. "So, I guess that leads me to asking you again: are you going to invite Yugi over to the apartment if he shows up here?"

After hearing Bakura's side of the story, Marik couldn't outright say yes. The pain was still clear in his eyes. Bakura couldn't bear having to be near Yugi.

"I won't invite him over," Marik replied. "If Yugi decides that he wants to visit me, I'm just going to suggest that we meet up somewhere other than the apartment."

That seemed like a good concession, though all Bakura said was, "Just keep him away from me, whatever you do."

Despite Bakura's gruff reply, Marik knew that he was thankful. It was clear by the way that Bakura's shoulders relaxed imperceptibly as they picked up the duel again.

Sometime later, Marik finally won. He defeated Bakura with an overpowered Jirai Gumo, which was equipped with both Rush Recklessly and the Deal of Phantom. When Marik made a comment about getting better at dueling, Bakura only said that he was just tired and in pain, so it was no wonder that Marik had won.

After the duel, Marik checked on Bakura's bandages. He unfurled the gauze and cleaned out the wounds again, reapplying a new set of bandages after that. Bakura grimaced whenever Marik touched his cuts, but otherwise, he looked grateful.

"Does it feel any better?" Marik asked.

"Not really," Bakura replied. Not surprisingly so, since it had only been a day since he'd gotten hurt, and some of the cuts still looked fresh.

"Well, if you want, you can keep sleeping in my bed until you feel better. After all, the couch isn't really the best place to sleep."

Bakura shrugged, and responded, "I guess that would be more comfortable."

The rest of the day was uneventful. That night, when it got late, and Bakura and Marik were both tired, they started getting ready for bed.

Once Marik had finished brushing his teeth, he headed to his bedroom. Bakura had already stripped down to his boxers and a T-shirt and climbed into the bed, but he was clearly still wide awake. Marik pulled off his jeans, shut off the light, and climbed into bed next to him.

Bakura looked over curiously. "What the hell is that?"

"What?"

Bakura motioned to the lamp sitting on the bedside table. It was off, but its translucent base still glowed with a dim luminescence.

"Oh, that. Um. It's a lamp?"

"I know that, idiot! I mean, why is it still partway on?"

"The base automatically lights up a little when you turn it off," Marik said. "It's not very bright. It shouldn't bother you."

Bakura laughed. "Are you telling me you sleep with a nightlight?"

"It's not a nightlight!" said Marik defensively. "Besides, you've never said anything about it before."

"I would have if I'd noticed it before," Bakura said. The few times he'd stayed in Marik's bed, he'd already been asleep by the time Marik turned out the light. "And if it's not a nightlight, then what else would you call it?"

"I- shut up! I just don't like the dark, alright?"

"You're scared of the dark?" Bakura laughed again. "This is too funny. Little Marik can't sleep with the lights off!"

"I'm not _scared_ of it, I just don't _like_ it," Marik said. His voice sounded angry, but a blush was creeping into his cheeks. "And- and if it bothers you that much, you're welcome to go and sleep on the lumpy couch!"

Bakura rolled his eyes. "Fine, fine," he said, turning over and facing away from Marik. "I won't say anything else."

Marik settled back down, and there were a few moments of silence.

Then Bakura snickered. "A nightlight," he said mockingly, almost under his breath.

Marik sat up quickly. "Shut _up_!"

"I didn't say anything," said Bakura, trying to sound innocent.

"You know, you wouldn't like the dark much either if you'd spent most of your life trapped underground," Marik snapped. "Aren't _you_ afraid of anything?"

Bakura rolled back over and faced Marik. "Of course not."

"Sure you're not," said Marik. "Fine, then, isn't there anything that you just don't _like_?"

"There are lots of things I don't like." Bakura started ticking them off on his fingers. "Your disgusting vegetarian food, your weird fixation on keeping your ugly carpet clean..."

"Oh, fuck you," said Marik. "You know what I mean. I mean something that makes you really uncomfortable."

Bakura rolled his eyes. "You're not going to let this go now, are you? I wish I'd never started this conversation."

"It's your own fault," Marik said. "If you don't want to tell me, I bet I could take a guess."

Bakura sighed. "Fine, I suppose I don't much like being trapped," he finally said.

"Because of all the time you spent trapped in the Ring?"

"Yes, that's why," Bakura said flippantly. "There, now we're even. You don't like the dark because you were stuck underground for years, and I don't like being trapped because I was stuck in the Ring for years. Happy now?"

"I suppose," Marik said slowly.

"Good." Bakura flipped over again, putting his back to Marik.

But Marik thought Bakura had agreed with him about the Ring much too quickly, as if he just wanted to brush off the question and get away from the subject.

"It's not just because of the Ring, is it?" Marik said suddenly, leaning over Bakura.

"What are you on about now?" Bakura sounded irritable.

"When you were trapped in the Ring, you were basically helpless. You had no power, no control," Marik said thoughtfully, working it out as he spoke. "But that's not the first time you were in a situation where you felt like that. The worst thing that ever happened to you...you felt the same way then."

"Shut up, Marik," said Bakura. "I don't want to hear your stupid theories."

Bakura's tone sounded dismissive, but Marik could tell by the look on his face that he'd struck a nerve.

" _That's_ what you're really afraid of," Marik said, understanding lighting his eyes. "Not being trapped, exactly; you're afraid of being helpless. You're afraid of losing control."

Bakura suddenly jerked himself into an upright position and glared at Marik. "You're one to talk about being afraid to lose control," he spat. "That's _your_ fear. You hate letting someone else have control more than you hate _anything._ "

Bakura might have expected Marik to get defensive at the intended jab, but Marik only shrugged.

"I have no problem admitting that I like to be the one in control," he said. "That's not exactly a secret. I think I made that plain from the moment I met you. And if it wasn't obvious then, I'm sure it's become obvious since we started fucking."

Bakura growled, irritated that his words hadn't had the intended effect, and somehow even more irritated that Marik was indirectly bringing up his dislike of letting Bakura fuck him. Bakura looked like he was about to get up and just walk out of the room when Marik spoke again.

"You, on the other hand..."

Bakura froze. He looked at Marik in the dim light, and saw that his eyes were sparkling, as if he were trying to suppress a smile about whatever he'd just thought of.

"You love letting me take control of you as much as you hate it," Marik said smugly. "You love it _because_ you hate it. It excites you as much as it terrifies you."

Bakura's eyes went wide. "I do _not_ like that!"

"You do, though," Marik said, his confidence not shaken a bit. "I think it's freeing for you. To be able to let go in a situation where you know nothing bad will happen. You _love_ it when I make you completely lose control of yourself."

"What?" Bakura sputtered. "You've _never_ made me lose control!" His eyes were on fire.

Marik just laughed softly. "Not even the time I made you ask for it and you begged me to fuck you?"

Bakura looked stricken. "I- I never did that," he mumbled.

Even in the scant light, Marik could see that Bakura was starting to blush.

"Bakura, you said, _Fuck me, please, I need you inside me._ "

Bakura turned his head away. "I...don't remember anything like that. It never happened."

Marik rolled his eyes. "You won't admit what you said because you're so scared to let yourself be vulnerable. But you want to be."

"I don't know what you're talking about." Bakura still wasn't facing Marik.

"You know, you let me be the one in control from the very start of our partnership, when we first met. You did practically everything I told you to. I don't think you'd allow that with anyone else," Marik said. "But I never actually made you totally lose control of yourself until we started having sex. I wonder if anyone besides me could make you all willingly helpless and get you to give up control like that?"

"Of course no- I mean, I told you, you've never made me lose control and-" Bakura was getting more and more flustered, and didn't even seem to know how to respond anymore.

When Marik laughed again, it seemed to snap Bakura out of it, and he turned to Marik with anger in his eyes. "I wonder if you'd let anyone else besides me touch your scars," he said maliciously.

Marik reeled back in surprise. "OK, we're done with this conversation."

"Don't like it when it's turned back around on you, do you?" asked Bakura caustically.

"You know, none of this would have happened if you would have just shut up about the stupid lamp."

Bakura threw his hands up in defeat. "You know what? You're right. I will never, ever mention your dumb little nightlight again."

"It is _not_ a nightlight!"


	18. Chapter 18

The next day was Sunday. Marik awoke slowly, feeling strange at having Bakura in his bed for the second morning in a row. Marik threw off the covers and dressed while Bakura continued sleeping. He padded across the room and went to the kitchen to fix breakfast.

Just as Marik began oiling the skillet, Bakura trudged into the kitchen.

"I'm making breakfast," said Marik.

"For me too?" asked Bakura groggily.

"Yeah," said Marik.

"Thanks," said Bakura, falling heavily into his chair.

Bakura didn't say another word as Marik finished cooking their meal. Soon enough, the two were sitting across the table from each other, starting in on their food.

They ate in companionable silence for a while before Bakura suddenly said, "So what are you up to today?"

"Nothing, why?"

Bakura shrugged. "I was just thinking we could play another card game."

"Sure," Marik said, pausing for a moment as he chewed on his food thoughtfully. "It's too bad it'll be a while before you feel well enough to bet again, though."

"You do realize that when you play in the tournament you won't get blowjobs for winning, right?" Bakura asked, smirking.

Marik looked down at his food, his face turning slightly red. "Shut up." He hadn't really meant to bring up their betting. It was just too early in the morning for him to think straight. He stabbed the fork a little too forcefully into his meal, trying to clear his head of the whole thing, but when he glanced up, he found Bakura looking at him questioningly.

"What?" Marik asked.

"Nothing," Bakura said, nonchalantly going back to his meal.

"No, tell me," Marik pressed. Judging by the look he'd seen on Bakura's face, it seemed like something had just dawned on him.

"It's nothing, really." Bakura said. "I was just wondering...does anyone around here even know that you're gay?"

Marik looked surprised at the question. "Why should it matter?"

"Just wondering, that's all." He could have said more, but he sensed Marik's defensiveness, and he wasn't really up for a fight that morning.

"Well, Rishid knows," Marik finally answered. "He's known for a long time."

"I figured," said Bakura. "So does Ishizu know?"

"I think she probably suspects," said Marik. "But I haven't actually told her directly."

"Why not?" Bakura asked.

"There was never any reason to discuss it," said Marik. "I was never with anyone, I mean not before th- I mean, I'd never had-" Marik broke off, seeming nervous, not knowing how to complete his thought, and so he was grateful when Bakura spoke again.

"Would she care if she did know?"

Marik thought for a moment. "No...no, I don't think so."

"Oh? So nobody's counting on you to produce an heir for your clan?"

"There would be no point," Marik said. "The job of the tomb keepers is done. There's no longer any need for an heir."

"I suppose that's true," said Bakura. "So she wouldn't have any...other problems with you being gay?"

"Bakura, I'm a murderer and a thief and a former gang leader, and she still accepts me," said Marik. "Me being gay isn't a big deal in comparison to all that."

Bakura laughed. "So why not just tell her? Why not tell everybody?"

"You do realize that we're in Egypt, right?" said Marik, glaring at Bakura. "That sort of thing isn't exactly accepted here."

"Of course," said Bakura dully. "So I take it you aren't planning on telling anyone else. Because of your reputation."

"Yes, because of that," Marik said crossly, his tone making it clear that, as far as he was concerned, the topic was closed.

"Fine," said Bakura, shrugging to indicate that it didn't matter to him. "It's your life."

There was silence for a moment, and then Bakura said, almost to himself, "But I do wonder..."

Marik looked up in annoyance. " _What._ "

"Just curious about what you'll do after I'm gone," said Bakura casually. "I mean, if you're not going to tell anyone you're gay, how _will_ you ever find anyone else to suck you off? Like I said, you won't be getting blowjobs for winning games in the tournament."

Marik looked surprised for the second time, and answered without thinking. "I haven't really thought about it." And he hadn't. But now that it had been brought up- well, honestly, it was a little weird to think about doing... _things_...with anyone besides Bakura. He couldn't really imagine being comfortable enough with anyone else to...but he quickly shied away from that train of thought, and shook his head to clear it, as if he could physically shake off the thoughts.

"Of course you haven't," Bakura said. Then he simply turned his attention back to his food without another word, working on finishing the last scraps.

Marik said nothing to that, but the instant Bakura was done eating, Marik suddenly snatched the empty plate from him. "Anyway, it's none of _your_ business what I do after you're gone," he said, more viciously than he'd intended. "You won't be here, and like you said, it's my life."

"True," Bakura said, and his careless tone somehow irritated Marik even more, but Marik only grabbed his own plate and took it along with Bakura's to the sink, turning his back on him.

Marik scrubbed the dishes a little more forcefully than was strictly necessary, and then he finally burst out, "And I suppose _you've_ told everyone about your sexuality?"

"No, but that's different," said Bakura, his calmness infuriating. "I don't talk to anyone else. I don't _have_ any family, or any other friends."

Marik winced, stiffening a little, but he refused to allow himself to feel guilty for his comment. "So nobody else knows," he said steadily.

"Well, I suppose Ryou knows, but only because we shared a mind link, not because I told him."

Marik suddenly turned around, on the offensive again, just having realized something. "Why haven't you told Ryou that you're back?"

"Because he's better off without me. So it's better for him that he doesn't know."

Marik didn't know if that was the truth or just an excuse. He decided not to bother trying to figure it out, and he turned back to the sink. "Everyone would be better off not knowing you."

"Surely," Bakura agreed.

Marik grimaced, but Bakura couldn't see it, and there was silence as Marik finished washing the dishes.

Marik's mind was still half on their previous conversation when he heard the chair scrape as Bakura got up.

As he rinsed off the last soap suds, Marik turned to see Bakura fiddling with the knots in his bandages. "Are you untying them?" Marik asked, frowning.

"Yeah," Bakura said. "I haven't showered since Friday with these things on, so I figured I could do that now that it doesn't hurt as much."

"Do you need help with that?" Marik asked, disarmed now, unable to stifle the concern he felt as he saw Bakura struggling and wincing in pain.

Even though his fingers clumsily fumbled across the knots, Bakura merely scoffed. "Of course not."

And with that, he turned from Marik and left the kitchen, heading toward what Marik presumed was the bathroom. Marik put away the rest of the dishes and cleaned up. As he walked back toward his bedroom, he suddenly heard a ripping noise and a loud _Fuck!_ reverberate across the apartment.

Marik opened the bathroom door to see a pantsless Bakura with one of his arms hanging from the shower curtain by the knot in his bandage. It appeared that he'd tried to move aside the curtain and had somehow gotten the bandage stuck in one of the curtain's hooks.

Marik burst out laughing, even as Bakura shot him a glare and continued to yank the bandage out of the hook, ripping the fabric even further.

"I don't think you're in any position to refuse my help now," Marik said, smiling as he approached Bakura.

He sullenly allowed Marik to remove the bandage from the curtain hook, freeing his arm.

"Will you at least let me get the rest of these bandages off of you?"

"I can get them," Bakura snapped.

But Marik insisted, and before Bakura could protest any further, Marik grabbed the hem of Bakura's shirt and carefully took it off. He untied the rest of the knots and let the bandages pool at their feet. The moment all the bandages were off, Bakura turned away. He haphazardly took off his boxers and stepped into the shower, and then drew the curtain sharply so that Marik couldn't see him.

But the moment he got in and the water began flowing, Marik heard Bakura's feet skid across the tile and it sounded like he was dangerously close to slipping and falling down.

Marik drew the curtain back, and was met with a glare.

"Will you just leave me alone?" Bakura growled.

"No," Marik said flatly. "You're going to break your neck at the rate you're going." As he spoke, Marik began taking off his shirt.

"I'm not going to- wait, what are you doing?" Bakura asked, frowning.

Marik unbuttoned his pants and let them drop to the floor, now only standing there in his underwear. "I'm getting in with you."

"You're getting into the shower?" Bakura sounded disbelieving, as if the idea of having Marik in the shower with him was just crazy.

"Yes. I'm getting in so I can help you," Marik said, throwing off his boxers. "Is there something wrong with that?"

"Yes, there's something fucking wrong with that."

"What?"

"It's fucking weird."

"Why?" Marik asked, stepping into the shower.

"It's just-" Bakura started, looking for something more definitive. "It's weird."

"Of all the things we've done, you think _this_ is weird?" Marik rolled his eyes. "Turn around. I'm going to wash your back."

Bakura clearly didn't have any coherent reason to disagree, so he did as Marik said. His wounds were still fresh. It still hurt to move around too much. As he finally turned, the water hit the top of his head and slid down in streams, cascading across his shoulders and dripping down his body. He felt Marik's soapy hands on his shoulders, moving slowly down his back. He would never voice the thought, but the way Marik so smoothly worked his hands down Bakura's back was soothing. His muscles relaxed. For a moment, he forgot the pain in his torso and the gashes on his arms.

The steam rose quickly all around him. He felt nearly featherweight, light against Marik's hands. Then Marik grabbed the bottle of shampoo and squeezed some against Bakura's scalp, and then both of Marik's hands were tangled in Bakura's hair, working through the long white strands. Marik was careful, winding his hands through Bakura's hair and then running them down his back again. Next, he felt Marik's hands moving over his arms, and then his legs, gingerly washing his cuts.

And then Marik's movements changed. He stepped closer, and Bakura felt his arms reach across his hips and land on his chest, where Marik stroked him slowly with soapy hands, dragging his fingers down Bakura's torso until he slowly grasped Bakura's firm cock.

Bakura breathed in sharply, the steam still clouding his senses. He hadn't even realized how turned on he'd gotten until he felt Marik's hand run up and down his length.

Marik went on slowly, slowly, wanting to draw the experience out for Bakura, to let him forget his pain for a little longer, and when he released him to lather his hands with more of the slippery soap that made his ministrations more pleasurable, Bakura turned around, and Marik took the opportunity to use one hand to pin Bakura's hip against the wall of the shower, his other hand sliding over Bakura's erection again.

Bakura gasped and tried to thrust forward, but Marik held him fast against the wall, still stroking as slowly as ever, and Bakura moaned softly. Marik supposed he was trying to be nice to Bakura, doing this as a favor for him, but that wasn't all of it. Really, he couldn't help wanting to touch Bakura, and it was worth it just for the reactions he got- he loved seeing Bakura's eyes clouded with desire and hearing his shaky breathing and knowing he was the cause of it.

When Marik's thumb swirled around the tip of Bakura's cock, Bakura inhaled sharply and tried to push forward again, so Marik put more pressure against his hip, holding him still.

"Marik-"

The sound of his name almost made him want to give in, but he kept up the slow pace, feeling Bakura throb inside his fist, and feeling him try to move towards him, and still Marik used his other hand to push him against the wall, preventing him from moving.

Marik continued to stroke him languorously, and one time he stopped again to reapply the soap that had washed away in the stream of the shower, but then he held him back again, keeping him from thrusting into his hand.

It went on, and Bakura whimpered in desperation, all of his restraint now gone, and still Marik continued in that way, absolutely loving the sight of Bakura like this, all flushed and needy and panting and drowning in sensation from Marik's touch. Marik kept on until finally he could tell that Bakura's desire to move against him was beyond need, so he removed his other hand from Bakura's hip and wrapped it around his cock, letting Bakura thrust into both of his hands as he finally sped up the pace, and he enjoyed the cry of pleasure he heard from Bakura when he was at last able to release, spilling his come over Marik's hands.

Marik quickly turned away under the pretense of rinsing his hands in the flow of the shower, hiding his own erection, embarassed about how strongly Bakura could affect him without even touching him. "So, I guess you can get out now," Marik said, trying to keep his voice from quavering. "I still need to wash."

Bakura, still shaky from his orgasm, didn't notice the tone of Marik's voice, just as Marik had expected and hoped.

So Bakura got out of the shower and toweled off, his back turned, the shower curtain drawn, and he didn't see when Marik reached down between his own legs.


	19. Chapter 19

Over the next week, the two fell into a routine. During the evenings, they played card games, had dinner, and talked. And during the nights, Bakura slept in Marik's bed. Bakura was still slowly healing. His bruises faded and the severity of his cuts and wounds lessened. He was still sore and therefore betting during their card games was still off the table, but it was clear that he was quickly getting back on his feet again. By the next Saturday, it crossed his mind that the tournament was rapidly approaching, and that he still needed to get more tokens for Marik. He was still hurt, yes, but he decided that he'd healed enough over the past week. And, as he placed the Millennium Ring around his neck, the power of three thousand years settled in him, and no minor cuts and bruises could outweigh that.

Bakura left at dusk, after letting Marik know where he was going.

The duelists were still in the peak of their preliminary games. Bakura sighted them along the streets and in the park. It was getting close to the beginning of the tournament, and many were now scrambling to acquire all their tokens. They were desperate, frantic, and therefore focused. Bakura eyed them carefully and realized that this was a time to be daring. These duelists were so entrenched in their games that they would never notice a slinking thief.

He saw a pair dueling under the dark canopy of the park. Surveying the scene, Bakura couldn't believe his luck.

The duelists were locked in a shouting match. It was nearly nighttime, so slipping away would be effortless. Better still, the pair was dueling near one of the park exits, so Bakura wasn't worried about getting away. And lastly, he spotted the duelists' two tokens, sitting perfectly unguarded on the bench beside them.

Bakura walked along the park toward the duelists. He didn't slow as he approached their bench- that would only let the duelists know that he was up to something. Although his heart was hammering, eager, as he drew near the duelists, he looked outwardly calm.

When he finally passed along the bench, he quickly scooped up both tokens with one hand, merely brushing his fingers along the bench, and continued walking.

The only sign he gave of his success was a sigh of relief, as he ducked his head and made for the park exit. This could not have been easier. He had merely picked up the tokens and walked away.

"Hey, where are the tokens?" he suddenly heard behind him.

"I don't know; they were right there. That's where you left them, right?" the other duelist responded. "You think it was that guy-"

Bakura didn't break into a run, though his heart was galloping at what he'd just heard. His pace didn't change as he walked out of the park and blended into the street crowd, just as he heard the duelists making toward him.

Despite their quick realization that the tokens were missing, there was nothing they could do to catch Bakura. He'd already blended into the crowd of tourists, duelists, and citizens of Luxor. As Bakura moved through the city streets, he breathed a second sigh of relief, and soon enough, he'd made it to Marik's apartment.

He found Marik at his computer, listening to music on iTunes, and set the two tokens in front of him.

"Two of them?" Marik asked.

"Yup," said Bakura. "Wasn't hard."

And it was true. It hadn't been hard. Having the security of the Ring really made a difference. He was finally starting to get back all of his old confidence in stealing. He shook his head slightly as he remembered how badly he'd messed up before. He'd been so stupid, and it wasn't like him. Of course, it had all been Marik's fault, for keeping the Ring from him, and for making him mad...but it didn't matter now. He was back on his game.

"Well, thanks," Marik said. "I appreciate it. At this rate, I should have all the tokens I need by the time the tournament starts."

"Uh-huh," said Bakura. He leaned over Marik's shoulder. "What are you listening to, anyway?"

"Oh, I just noticed there were a bunch of songs I'd never seen before on here, so I was flipping through everything," said Marik. "I guess you've been downloading some songs?"

"Yeah," said Bakura. "Not a lot to do around here while you're at work."

Marik skipped past "Falling Slowly," a song he'd downloaded himself. The next song that came on, "Indestructible" by Disturbed, was unfamiliar to Marik. It must have been one of Bakura's.

"Ah, I can see why you like this one," Marik said after listening to the lyrics for a bit.

"Yeah," said Bakura, and Marik clicked to go to the next song.

"Well, _that_ one is clearly yours," said Bakura, wrinkling his nose as "Set Fire to the Rain" by Adele came out of the speakers.

"Hey, there's nothing wrong with this song," said Marik. "Alright, let's see what else is on here."

The song changed again, and "Wings of a Butterfly" by H.I.M. came on.

"This one must be yours, because I didn't download it," said Marik. He listened for a minute. "It's pretty good."

" _Gods kneel before our crime._ I love that line," said Bakura.

"You would," said Marik, skipping to the next song.

"So...Beautiful Thieves by A.F.I.," said Marik. "Gods, do all the songs you like have to do with delinquent activity?"

Bakura shrugged. "What do you expect?"

Marik rolled his eyes and moved on to the next song. "Wait- what the hell is this?"

"Um..."

"Did you download '7 Things' by _Miley Cyrus_?" Marik asked incredulously.

"No, I- I have no idea how that got on there."

"Well, I didn't download this, so it _had_ to be you."

"Let's move along!" Bakura reached over Marik and clicked to skip to the next song.

Bakura looked slightly relieved as a far less embarrassing song came on. The two listened as the lyrics reverberated from the speakers.

_I don't care what you think as long as it's about me  
The best of us can find happiness in misery_

"I guess this is one of yours," said Marik. "Actually, I kinda like this song."

Marik skipped forward again, and the next song that came up was one of his.

_Signed, with a home tattoo,  
Happy birthday to you was created for you_

Bakura gave Marik a pointed look. Marik shrugged and moved on to the next song.

_You do everything for me  
Protect me from the shadows_

Bakura instantly recognized it. He'd heard Marik listening to it before. "Oh, 'Die With You' by Blutengel. I like this song."

This time, they listened to the entire song instead of skipping ahead to the next one.

When the song ended, and Marik saw the next song that was about to play, he quickly hit the "stop" button. He really didn't need Bakura to know that he had "Lost In Your Eyes" on his iTunes.

"Alright, I'm kind of tired of looking through songs," Marik said. "Do you want to play a card game?"

"Sure," Bakura said.

Marik shut off his computer and they sat down at the kitchen table. They shuffled their decks and picked up their cards.

"Do you wanna bet this time?" Bakura asked, scanning his cards.

"Sure, if you feel up to it," Marik replied.

"Loser gets fucked?"

"Classic." Marik smiled. "Sure, let's bet for that."

They started at an even pace. Bakura lost a couple of hundred points when Marik wiped out his Witch of the Black Forrest with the Amphibian Beast, and then Marik's side of the field was wiped clean of all his monsters and Bakura attacked him directly. Neither could quite get the upper hand throughout the game, but the closer their life points dwindled to zero, the more both of them felt on edge.

They hadn't bet all week, and it was clear that the lack of sexual activity had put a strain on their current duel. Neither wanted to lose. Neither wanted to succumb to the other, evidenced by the fact that Bakura's hands were clenched around his cards and his knuckles were white, and that Marik growled every time he lost life points. The prospect of finally having sex again was the only thing either of them could think about.

"I use Monster Reborn to raise the Hayabusa Knight from your graveyard," Bakura declared, and Marik sullenly fished the card out of his graveyard and placed it on Bakura's side of the field. "And then I'll add the Malevolent Nuzzler to it, giving it 1,700 attack points."

Marik scoffed. "Great. But it'll take more than that to defeat my Harpie's Brother."

Bakura smirked. "And then I use Reinforcements on my Hayabusa Knight to take out your remaining 300 life points."

Marik scanned the power-ups quickly and realized that Bakura indeed had enough points to completely take him out. And really, Marik should have seen this coming. They both had great decks, but Marik had used most of his power-ups early in the game, while Bakura had gotten them later in the duel.

Marik heaved a great sigh and threw his cards on the table. "Well, fuck."

He had no choice but to follow through with the bet, however. It had been a while since he'd lost a "loser gets fucked" bet with Bakura, but there was no use dwelling on that now. They packed up the cards and, as was their fashion, wasted no time in heading toward the bedroom.

Soon enough, Marik was lying naked on his back as Bakura began to prepare him. As he slid in a second finger, he looked up at Marik's expression. He looked bored and just slightly uncomfortable. It irritated Bakura. He wriggled his fingers around, trying to get some reaction out of Marik, but Marik only turned his head to the side and stared at the wall with disinterest.

After another minute of Bakura's efforts, Marik spoke. "Alright, that's good enough," he said, still not even looking at Bakura. "Get on with it."

"Damn it!" Bakura yelled, slamming his fist into the mattress next to Marik. Marik finally looked up at him, his eyes registering surprise. "Just _tell_ me already! Tell me how to do it right!"

Marik immediately broke into hysterics. Bakura jerked his fingers out of him, staring at Marik with a murderous glare, but Marik was laughing so hard he barely even noticed.

"Well, if you don't want to tell me," Bakura said loudly, trying to grab Marik's attention, "then maybe I'll just shove it in right now, with no more lubrication, and go as hard as I can. It will probably hurt. Does that suit you better?"

Marik heard him, and bit his lip, trying to stifle his giggles. Finally, he seemed to get himself under control, choking down the last of his laughter. "Alright, alright. I'm sorry."

He didn't look a bit sorry, but Bakura calmed down slightly, waiting to see what Marik would say.

"Okay, so put your fingers back in." Marik looked like he was still trying to suppress a smile, but Bakura chose to ignore it and did what Marik said. "Now, crook your fingers up in the direction of my stomach," Marik said. Bakura did. "Now move them, like, kind of stroke against the wall."

Bakura silently followed Marik's instructions, trying to ignore his own lingering irritation. "Well?" asked Bakura finally. He still wasn't getting any real reaction from Marik, and he could see the ghost of Marik's amused smile still lingering at the corners of his mouth.

"Well, you're still not really in the right place. You're looking for a little bump...no, higher up, it should be a couple of inches i- ah, _ah_!"

Bakura smirked in satisfaction as Marik closed his eyes and tipped his head back, the last of that amused look finally erased from his features. So _that's_ what he was supposed to do.

Bakura kept it up for a while, until Marik was squirming under him, his breath coming fast. "Alright?" asked Bakura, smiling. Now it was his turn to look amused.

Marik opened his eyes only halfway and nodded, seeming unable to speak.

"Well, at least now I know how to get you to shut up," Bakura smirked as he coated himself with lubrication.

Marik registered the jab, and his eyes cleared a bit. "Hey!" he cried, offended, but anything else he might have said was cut off as Bakura slid inside of him, making him gasp.

Once Bakura was settled inside, he was still. "Any further instructions?" he asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Just- s-start out slow," Marik said, his breath still uneven, "and t-try to hit that same spot."

So Bakura started slowly, experimenting with the angle of his thrusts, remembering where the spot he'd found was. He titled Marik's hips up a little, trying to get the best angle, and then he heard Marik's sharp intake of breath. That was it.

Bakura continued that way, finding that he was concentrating so hard on his technique that he wasn't in much danger of finishing too soon, but the little sounds of pleasure coming from Marik were turning him on, bringing him ever closer.

"Alright, you- you can go a little faster now," Marik panted.

Bakura sped up, and he felt Marik's hands reach to grab onto him, his nails digging into his sides.

"Touch me," Marik gasped. "Touch me."

Bakura had to shift around a bit to make it work, propping himself up on one elbow so that he could reach between their bodies and grab hold of Marik. After the slight change in position, Bakura wasn't sure he was getting quite the best angle anymore, but now it didn't matter, because he was gripping Marik with slick fingers, drawing unrestrained cries from him as he stroked up and down.

Bakura was climbing himself, the sounds coming from Marik starting to really drive him crazy, and just as he began to wish that Marik would hurry up, he felt Marik clench around him, gripping onto him even tighter as he moaned and spilled over his fist.

Bakura removed his hand, using it to lift one of Marik's legs up a bit, and now he didn't have to worry about technique, so he just pounded into Marik in the way that felt best to him, as hard as he could, knowing that Marik's completely relaxed and open body could take it now. He glanced at Marik's face, and the look of satisfaction he saw there tipped him over the edge, and he came inside him with a cry.

He was shaking a little bit as he pulled out. For a moment, Marik looked at him with hooded eyes, but an instant later Marik rolled away, turning his back to him.

Bakura noted with satisfaction that Marik's breathing still hadn't quite evened out.

"Good?" asked Bakura.

"Sure," said Marik, sounding as if he felt a bit awkward.

Bakura decided to let it go, rolling over himself and sleeping better than he had all week.


	20. Chapter 20

The following Monday, after work, Ishizu pulled Marik aside.

"Marik, I know you like to be informed of the happenings in the museum," said Ishizu. "So I thought I'd update you on our progress with the Millennium Items."

"Yes, I'd be interested to know that," Marik said, smiling.

"Yugi arrived this weekend, and yesterday, he found the Puzzle for us," said Ishizu. "And we'll be searching for the Ring next. The officials plan to contact Ryou Bakura tomorrow and ask if he'd oblige us."

Marik's mind locked up, and he felt the first tendrils of panic seeping in. First, his thoughts flashed to the fact that Yugi had already arrived, and had already found the Puzzle. Then his mind latched onto the real problem. The Ring. Ryou. Ryou looking for the Ring. If Ryou told them it was missing- worse, if he led them to where the Ring really _was_ -

"Marik?" asked Ishizu. "Marik, are you alright?"

Great. He was already looking suspicious. He tried to compose himself. "I'm fine. It's just been a long day. That's all."

"I know this job frustrates you, but keep working hard," said Ishizu. "As I've told you, I believe you'll be moving up soon, if you continue to do good work."

"Thank you. I will, Sister," Marik said. "And thank you for the information. I appreciate it."

Ishizu nodded. "Well, I won't keep you any longer. Go home and rest."

"Yes, I think I will."

 

* * *

  
As Marik rushed back to the apartment on his motorcycle, he tried to think. What could he do? What could _they_ do?

There was one answer, but he kept pushing it away. He couldn't take the Ring away from Bakura and put it back at the dig site. It wasn't fair to Bakura. And he knew Bakura would never give it up willingly, not now. But he couldn't think of any other possible solution, and his mind was now whirring in near hysteria.

When Marik reached the apartment, he ran in, slamming the door behind him. Bakura was sitting at the kitchen table, and he looked up, startled. Marik wasted no time, wanting to get it over with, to ask of Bakura what he really didn't want to ask, but had to ask, because it was the only way he could see to solve this.

"Bakura, you have to give me the Ring back."

Bakura's eyes widened. " _What_?"

"They're going to be looking for the Ring next, at the dig site, and it won't be there, and, so-" Marik knew he was talking too fast, he was panicking, but he couldn't stop himself. "You have to give it back to me so I can put it back there and it can be found."

"Over my dead body. Literally."

"Bakura, you have to!" He couldn't seem to come up with a better argument.

"You're _not_ taking the Ring from me. I won't give it up again."

"Bakura...Bakura, you don't understand. They're calling Ryou in to look for it. Ryou! How will it look for me- for us- when he tells them it's not there? What if he can sense where it _is_ and leads them right to the apartment? What if-"

"Marik," said Bakura, his voice steady. "Marik, calm down."

"Calm down? You want me to calm down? Did you _hear_ what I said?"

"I heard," said Bakura. "It's not a crisis. We'll just call Ryou and tell him to stay away."

Marik stared at Bakura incredulously. He couldn't even think of how to begin listing all the problems he saw with that scenario. In the end, he started with the least of them. "I thought you didn't want Ryou to know you were back."

"I didn't want to bother him if it wasn't necessary. But it seems that it's necessary."

Marik looked at Bakura like he might have gone crazy. "And what, exactly, do you plan to say to him? _Oh, hi, Ryou, it's the vengeful spirit who used to possess you. Mind doing me a favor?_ "

Bakura laughed a little, leaning back in his chair and crossing his arms behind his head. "Pretty much."

Marik squeezed his eyes shut in frustration and put his thumb and forefinger on the bridge of his nose. "Tell me you're not serious."

"You never knew Ryou. He's a good kid. Always trying to do the right thing. Always trying to help people. I mean, not like you are- with him, it's genuine. Not an act he puts on for some stupid popularity contest." Marik shot Bakura a glare, but Bakura ignored it and continued. "Remember what I told you when we first met? About how Ryou is easy to manipulate? That's what I'm getting at."

"So you'd use him again? After everything he's already been through?" Marik asked. "And here I thought you hadn't told him you were back because you didn't want to cause him any trouble."

"You act like I want to hurt him or something," said Bakura, a little less calm now, drumming his fingers on the table. "I have no desire to hurt Ryou. Never did. I never treated him any worse than was necessary for my purposes. And now, I'm only going to ask him to stay away. It's not like that will be some huge sacrifice for him."

Bakura could tell by the look on Marik's face that he wasn't really satisfied with the answer he'd been given. Bakura sighed. "Look, Marik, I can't really explain to you how things were between me and Ryou. It was complicated. We basically shared a mind, so he knew how things were with me, and he sympathized. But he didn't want me to hurt his friends. He was kind of torn up about it. Sometimes he helped me, and sometimes he helped them." Bakura paused, deciding whether or not to go on. Finally, he did. "And I did what I could to protect him."

"So, what are saying? That you actually gave a damn about him?"

"I didn't say that," said Bakura, which wasn't a denial. "I'm just saying you shouldn't make assumptions about something you really know nothing about. So let me handle it."

When Marik only stood there with his arms crossed over his chest, not responding, Bakura spoke again. "What's the alternative? To do nothing and let this situation screw both of us? You clearly don't have any better ideas. And taking the Ring from me is _not_ a better idea. It's not even an option."

At that, Marik threw his hands up in surrender. "Fine, you're right. Do what you want."

"Well, that's what I was going to do regardless," said Bakura, and Marik gave him another look of irritation, which Bakura ignored again. "I don't know why you're so concerned about Ryou's fragile little feelings anyway. You've never even spoken to him."

"Actually, I have," said Marik. "After- after you died, he got in touch with me. Over the internet. We talked a couple times. He was the only one of that damn group who bothered to check up on me and see if I was doing alright, after everything that happened."

"Like I said, he's a good kid."

"Yeah," said Marik.

Bakura's eyes suddenly brightened. "So, does that mean you have his contact information?"

"Well, like I said, we only talked a couple times, and it was years ago, right after- right after I completed my duties. But I don't think I ever bothered to delete him from my Skype contacts, so...yeah."

"That makes things much easier," said Bakura. "Let's get this over with now. See if he's online."

"Fine," said Marik, resigned now.

Marik headed over to his computer and started up Skype. The two stared at the screen, waiting. And there it was. Ryou was online.

"We should probably make it a video call," Bakura said. "He might not believe I'm back if he doesn't see it for himself."

"Alright, but stay out of view for a minute, would you?" Marik said. "Let's try not to give him the shock of his life. Let me talk to him for a little bit first."

Bakura nodded and stepped away.

A few moments later, Ryou's image popped up on the screen.

"Hi, Ryou."

"Marik! I haven't heard from you in a long time. What can I do for you?"

"Well..." Marik said, hesitating. Finally, he decided to get right to the point. Ryou had asked, after all. "Actually, to be honest, there _is_ something you can do for me. I'm kind of calling to ask you a favor."

"Of course. What do you need?"

"Um." Marik didn't quite know how to start. Eventually, he decided to start at the beginning. "Did you know that the Luxor museum has been digging up the Millennium Items? They want them for an exhibit."

"No, I didn't know that." A cloud seemed to briefly pass over Ryou's face, but it was gone in an instant. "Well, I suppose that will be an interesting exhibit."

"Yes, that's what they're thinking," said Marik. He paused again, unsure how to continue. This time, he waited so long to speak that Bakura got impatient, shoving him aside and putting his face in front of the screen.

"Hi, Ryou. I'm back."

Ryou almost fell out of his chair. "What- I- how?"

"That doesn't matter right now," Bakura said, waving away the question. "And don't worry- I don't intend to bother you. I don't intend to bother anyone. No reason to anymore."

"Then- why?"

Bakura understood what he was asking. "Well, here's why we're calling. Turns out, each Item can only be found by a person who had a strong connection with it. So Ishizu found the Necklace, they called Kaiba in to find the Rod, they called Yugi in to find the Puzzle..."

"And they're going to call me in to find the Ring," Ryou finished for him.

"Exactly," said Bakura, pointing at the screen. "Now, if you get here and tell them that you don't sense the Ring, that it's gone from the dig site...or worse, if you sensed where the Ring _is_ and led them right here, to me...well, that would cause serious problems for me. And for Marik. And I'm sure you wouldn't want that."

Ryou shook his head in confusion, trying to process all the new information suddenly being dropped on him. "Why would it cause problems for Marik?"

"Marik found the Ring a few months ago," Bakura said. "He stole it and brought me back, and now he's hiding me out here. But _they_ don't know any of that. And obviously, we need to keep it that way, or we'd both be in serious trouble. If you come here and tell them the Ring is missing from the dig site...well, there would be suspicions. It would be bad for us."

"So what is it you want me to do?" asked Ryou.

"It's not much I'm asking. Nothing at all, really," said Bakura. "I just want you to stay away. When they call and ask you to come find the Ring, make up some excuse for why you can't make it. They can't force you to do it, after all."

Ryou didn't hesitate. "Sure, Bakura. I'll stay away."

"Great!" Bakura flashed Marik an I-told-you-so look.

Bakura looked back at the screen, and Ryou lifted his eyes. "Bakura?"

"Yeah?"

"I'm glad you're alright."

"Sure," said Bakura. "So, thanks for the favor." Then he stepped out of Ryou's view.

"Yeah, thanks," Marik added. "I- we- really appreciate it."

"It's no problem," said Ryou. "Bakura was right. It's really nothing."

 _See?_ Bakura mouthed to Marik. Marik ignored him.

"So, Ryou," Marik said, fidgeting a little, feeling he had to say _something._ "How have you been?"

"I've been well. And you?"

"I've been alright."

Bakura rolled his eyes. "Are you seriously going to sit there and chat?"

"Shut up," hissed Marik. "No, not you, Ryou. So...what have you been up to?"

"Not too much," answered Ryou. "I started college about a year ago. I don't really see the old gang anymore, but I've made a lot of new friends in college."

"That's good," Marik said. "I'm going to college, too. But just online courses. Mostly I work at the museum."

"That sounds fun."

Marik smiled ruefully. "Not really," he admitted. "I just work in the gift shop."

"Well, you have to work your way up, I suppose," said Ryou brightly.

Marik tried to force a genuine-looking smile. "Right."

There was an awkward silence. Marik still felt like he should talk to Ryou, that he shouldn't just rush off right after asking him a favor, but he really didn't know what else to say. He didn't really know Ryou. He squirmed a little, feeling uncomfortable.

Ryou sensed it, and gave Marik an out. "Well, I ought to be going."

"Oh! Yes, sorry to keep you."

Just before he was about to sign off, he noticed a curious look on Ryou's face. "Ryou...are you alright?"

"Yes, of course. I mean- it's nothing."

Marik was worried that maybe Ryou _wasn't_ truly alright with doing this favor. Or that he'd been traumatized by suddenly learning that Bakura was back. So he pushed a little. "It's alright, Ryou. You can tell me."

"Well, it's just..." Ryou paused, cocking his head. "It's just, you don't sound like yourself. I don't mean to be rude, but is there a particular reason you're using that false voice you always used when you pretended to be Namu?"

Marik slapped his forehead just as Bakura burst out laughing.

 

* * *

  
Marik slept fitfully that night, and he dragged himself through the next day at work. He should have felt relieved, but he was still shaken up over the events of the previous day. In retrospect, he couldn't believe he hadn't thought of it before. Of _course_ they would eventually search for the Ring. Of _course_ they would look to Ryou to do it. But it hadn't occurred to him. It pained him to admit it, but maybe Bakura was right when he said that Marik never thought beyond the present moment.

The news had really taken him off guard. And it had thrown the fact of his double life right in his face. Here he was, trying to be responsible and work hard and help out the museum, yet he was the one who had stolen the Ring and willingly turned it over to a thief. If anyone ever found out- if anyone even _suspected_ \- well, it was absolutely unthinkable. That was why he'd completely lost his head. He couldn't stand the thought of his reputation being ruined now, when he was so close. But it would all be over soon. He would win the tournament, Bakura would leave, and he wouldn't have anything to hide anymore.

Marik drifted through his work day like a zombie, and he was happy when he was finally able to clock out. But then Ishizu pulled him aside again, and he immediately felt a sense of dread. It seemed Ishizu never had anything good to tell him lately.

"Marik, I have good news," Ishizu said. "I know you've been wanting to have more responsibility here. You'll soon get your wish."

"What do you mean?"

"Well, as I told you they would, the museum contacted Ryou Bakura today, and asked him to come here and search for the Ring," said Ishizu. "However, he said he was unable to do it. He said it would be too painful for him, and that he would prefer to leave the past behind him. It's understandable. The poor child. Having had to live with that evil spirit tormenting him...no one blames him for not wanting to be reminded of it."

"Yes, it's understandable," Marik nodded, trying to keep his expression neutral. If only they knew. "But, how does that lead to more responsibility for me?"

"Well, Marik, as I'm sure you know, _you_ had a connection with the Ring," said Ishizu. "The museum officials know that your soul was housed inside Ryou Bakura's body during a time when he wore the Ring, and that you later owned the Ring yourself, and gave it to Yugi for the good of us all."

Marik froze. Panic started to set in for the second time in as many days. They couldn't- _couldn't_ \- ask him to find the Ring. What would he do? What would he tell them? Then, his mind grabbed onto something. "Yugi," he said. "Why can't Yugi just find all the items? He owned them all, in the end."

But Ishizu shook her head. "We tried that. But only someone with a true connection to an Item can find it. Yugi never had a true emotional connection to any Item but the Puzzle. Because he owned them, he can sense the existence of the other Items- he says he knows they're all nearby- but he can find nothing but the Puzzle himself."

So Yugi knew all the Items were nearby. The news kept getting worse and worse. That meant that a lie- a lie told either by Ryou, or himself, a lie claiming that the Ring simply wasn't there- would be completely unbelievable. Yugi knew the Ring hadn't gone far.

"So you see, Marik, you're the only option," Ishizu said. "Aside from Ryou, no other living person has a connection to the Ring. So they'll be asking for your help soon."

Marik just stood there in shock, unable to respond. What was he going to do?

Ishizu noticed his distress, but misinterpreted it. "I do not mean to say that they only ask because you're the last option. As I told you before, the officials were impressed by your insight about the Items, and they are starting to trust you. They wouldn't ask at all if they still considered you completely untrustworthy."

Once, being asked to help find an Item would have filled Marik with joy. Now, it was a disaster that filled him with dread. But he had to get a hold of himself. He forced a smile. "That's wonderful," he said. "Thank you for letting me know in advance. It will give me time to think of the proper grateful reaction. When do you think they'll contact me?"

"I believe it will be tomorrow," said Ishizu.

Marik nodded. "Thank you, Sister. But I should be heading home. I have a lot to think about." The last part wasn't even a lie.

Ishizu returned his nod, and Marik departed.

When Marik got back to the apartment, he didn't see Bakura. He wasn't sure if he was out, or simply in another room. At the moment, he was too upset to try to find out. All he could think of was calling Ryou. He wasn't sure if that really made sense. What could Ryou do? But Ryou was the reason for this...because Ryou had refused the job, Marik would be asked to do it in his place. He threw himself down in front of his computer and clicked the button to call Ryou.

"Marik? Are you alright?" Ryou's concerned face stared back at him from his screen.

"No! No, I'm-" Marik shook his head.

"What's wrong? I did what you asked."

"I know! I know. It's not your fault. But-" Marik heard a door open. Bakura stepped out into the living room, apparently having heard his voice from the other room.

"Marik?" asked Bakura. "What is it?"

Marik looked back and forth between Bakura and the image of Ryou on the screen. "The museum officials- after Ryou- after you said you wouldn't do it- well, they say I'm the only other living person with a connection to the Ring- so they want me to- but I can't, I can't find it, and I don't know what to do-"

"What?" said Bakura. "They want _you_ to find it?"

Marik nodded numbly.

Bakura looked at him, dumbfounded. "Well, isn't _that_ ironic," Bakura finally said. But he looked worried for the first time since this whole incident started.

Marik turned towards Bakura. "What am I supposed to tell them?"

Bakura didn't seem to have an answer.

"I'm coming out there," said Ryou calmly.

"What?" asked Marik and Bakura in unison, both turning their attention back to the computer screen.

"No, you don't have to-" Marik started.

"Marik, you're practically hysterical. And I don't think either of you have any idea what to do. I'm coming out there. I'll take care of it."

Marik was momentarily stunned out of his panic. "But- but what will you do?"

"I'll think of something," Ryou said. "Please don't underestimate me, Marik. You know, I stole the Ring before you ever did."

Marik looked momentarily abashed.

Ryou went on. "I'm going to call the museum officials right now and tell them I've changed my mind. That I'll help them find the Ring. And then I'll come to Egypt and fix this."

"Ryou, do you even have a _plan_?" Bakura broke in.

"No," said Ryou. "But I will."

With that, Ryou ended the call.

Marik looked at Bakura. "What are we supposed to do now?"

"We wait," said Bakura.

Marik looked distressed. Finally, he said, "Why would he come all the way out here just to try to help us?"

"I told you," said Bakura, "he's a good kid."


	21. Chapter 21

The next morning, Marik once again dragged himself in to work. After the past day or so of stomach-churning events regarding the Ring, he didn't think he could take any more news. But there waited Ishizu at the front counter, ready to unleash something new.

"Good morning, Marik," she started. "I wanted to tell you something. Ryou has changed his mind and decided to help us find the Ring after all."

Marik breathed in deeply, steeling himself. At least he knew this much would happen, so this wasn't news at all. "That means I will no longer be asked to help find the Ring."

Ishizu nodded. "That's right. The officials decided to proceed with the old plan. Ryou will be flying in this Friday to help us search."

Marik acknowledged the news with a curt nod, and walked toward the front counter to clock himself in.

"Marik, I hope you're not-" Ishizu started, looking uncertain. "I hope you're not disappointed. I know that you really wanted the officials to notice you, and give you a chance. I hope this doesn't seem like a letdown."

Glancing at her, Marik gave a small smile. "Don't worry, Sister. I know they meant well if they even considered giving me the job. I'm not disappointed."

"Great," Ishizu said, seeming to breathe a sigh of relief. "I'm glad you understand."

Marik proceeded to work, letting his mind drift, trying as hard as he could to ignore the fact that Ryou would be in Egypt in two days, and they still had no plan at all.

 

* * *

  
The next two days passed uneventfully. Marik buried himself in mind-numbing work, and when he came home, he watched TV for hours, until he finally fell into fitful sleep. Bakura watched Marik's restlessness from afar. They played a card game on Thursday night, but they didn't bet, and Marik was so wound up that he nearly flipped the table over whenever he lost points.

Finally, Friday arrived, and after working all day, Marik was about to clock out of the gift shop when he heard voices coming from a nearby room.

And he couldn't be mistaken. One of the voices was Ryou's.

Marik carefully opened the door to the nearby conference room, and the sight of Ryou, after all these years, stopped him short.

The resemblance was so uncanny. Here was Ryou, white-haired, pale, and brown-eyed, staring at him in surprise, when a nearly exact replica of him was currently living at Marik's apartment.

"Marik!" Ryou said, his eyes immediately brightening and his demeanor changing entirely. He stepped toward Marik and quickly embraced him before Marik could utter a single word.

"Ryou, it's great to see you," Marik said, genuinely glad to see the boy. He'd grown since they'd last seen each other. He was still lanky as ever, but it was clear that Ryou had aged and grown taller since the Battle City tournament.

Their greeting didn't last long as several museum officials stepped toward the two, Ishizu close behind them, and Marik realized they must have been discussing the Ring.

"Marik," Ishizu started. "We were just telling Ryou that he can take the next few days to settle in, as we will be starting the search whenever he feels ready."

"I see," Marik said. "Where will he be staying until then?"

"Actually, we didn't-" Ishizu started, as the thought occurred to her.

"He can stay with me," Marik interjected, thinking it would be best to have Ryou at his place so they could work on their plan. But he said, "We haven't seen each other in so long, and I think this would be the perfect way to catch up."

"Great," Ishizu replied, giving them both a smile.

After exchanging more pleasantries, Marik said a gracious goodbye to the officials and his sister, and he and Ryou left the gift shop.

As they walked toward the motorcycle Marik had parked outside, he felt Ryou's eyes on him. It was so strange to be near Ryou again, when he looked so much like Bakura. It was strange to be given such a curious, innocent look, when all Marik was used to were glares and smirks. Marik finally glanced at Ryou, his eyebrows rising up in question.

Ryou hesitated for a moment. And then he quietly said, "You've changed."

"How so?" Marik looked puzzled.

Ryou shook his head. "I'm not sure, but...back there, with the officials, I noticed it. It's almost like you're hiding yourself. Even better than you hid yourself before."

Marik gave him a perplexed look, trying to understand where Ryou was coming from, and why he even brought that up.

"Is that a bad thing?" Marik finally asked.

Ryou shrugged. "I think that's something you'll have to decide for yourself."

The motorcycle ride to the apartment was silent, other than the wind blowing across Marik's face, and the tumultuous thoughts that plagued him.

 

* * *

  
Once back at the apartment, it occurred to Marik that Ryou and Bakura hadn't seen each other in three years, and he was curious to watch their reunion, to watch Bakura's reaction after all this time.

"Ryou," was all Bakura said when he saw the two walk through the door. He folded his arms and regarded them with a bored look. "Now that you're here, let's get started."

Marik snorted. Leave it to Bakura to treat his old host as if no time at all had passed. Perhaps that's how it was for Bakura, since he'd been in the Ring for too long to even notice the passing of time.

"It's good to see you, Bakura," Ryou piped up, following the two into the kitchen. He glanced around the small space, taking in the threadbare rug and meager furnishings. "This is a really nice apartment, Marik."

"Thanks," Marik replied. "Take a seat, and I guess we can start."

He felt it rude to ask Ryou to spill the plan to them the moment he flew into Egypt, the minute he walked into his apartment, but the sooner they had a concrete plan, the better Marik would feel.

"What's your plan?" Bakura turned to Ryou.

"Well," Ryou started, looking uncomfortable to be put on the spot. "I think we all agreed that using Bakura's Ring and giving it to the officials is out of the question—"

"Completely out of the question," Bakura interjected. "I'm not handing over the Ring."

"Right," Ryou said. "My next idea was to create a fake Ring."

He looked around the table, watching for their reactions as the idea sank in.

Bakura immediately looked sickened at the thought, but Marik looked like he was considering it.

"That could work-" Marik started.

"That is not going to work," Bakura immediately said. His brown eyes were dark and fierce. "How are we supposed to create a fake Ring? It'll be obvious to any one of those dumbass officials that it's not real. And the moment they realize that-"

"Well, hang on. How are they going to figure out that it's fake?" Marik interrupted, rounding on Bakura. "If we do some decent spell-work, I don't see how they would even suspect anything."

"Spell-work?" Bakura looked incredulous. "What kind of magic do you intend to use? You're forgetting that our Items don't have much power anymore. We don't have any spell-work."

Marik smirked. "Maybe the Items don't, but I still do."

At that, both Ryou and Bakura glanced at him sharply.

"What kind of magic?" Ryou asked.

"Glamours. I can make any piece of gold into any particular shape, and since we have the Ring, I can copy it."

"Where did you learn that?" Bakura asked dubiously, as he folded his arms again.

"Before the Battle City tournament. I tried a lot of spells to make copies of the Winged Dragon of Ra card, and finally made one that looked like the real thing. Plus, I made a fake Rod for Rishid when he posed as me during the tournament."

Ryou beamed at Marik, looking impressed. "Perfect. We can make this work." He looked around at Bakura, as if expecting his support.

"Maybe," Bakura said, still unconvinced. "But what if they see through it?"

"Trust me, they won't." Marik stared across the table at Bakura, imploring him to believe in this plan, since this was really their best shot. Bakura gave him a piercing look. A look that said, _This is all on you, then_.

"Alright, since we all agree, I think we should get started as soon as we can," Ryou said.

"I can prepare for the spell," Marik said.

"I can steal the gold," Bakura said.

When Ryou stared at him in surprise, Bakura snapped, "What? Don't tell me you have some sort of ethical issues with me stealing, because this was your idea."

Ryou kept his mouth shut.

They agreed that first, Bakura should steal the gold after it grew dark, and tomorrow they would perform the actual spell. In the meantime, Marik realized that he was starving, and started cooking dinner while the other two sat at the table, and Ryou talked. He talked about his college classes, new friends, and his experiences the past few years. Marik listened, cooking and interjecting sometimes, while Bakura looked lost in thought.

Marik had to admit he was also nervous about the plan. They were all nervous, as evidenced by the fact that Bakura didn't want to talk at all, and all Ryou could do was talk. It was as if they were each waiting, filling up the time in their own way.

Finally, it was nightfall, and Bakura left to steal the solid gold. Ryou said that he was tired and wanted to retire to bed since he hadn't slept at all on the plane.

"You can take my bed," Marik said. "Bakura can sleep on the couch, and I'll take the floor."

"Oh," Ryou said, looking startled. "Are you sure you don't want the bed? I don't want to disrupt whatever arrangement you and Bakura have."

Marik frowned. "You're a guest, Ryou. And Bakura always sleeps on the couch anyway."

Ryou looked surprised by that again, but dutifully took the new sheets and pillowcases Marik offered him and retired to bed.

After that, Marik turned out the lights and sat by the windowsill to wait for Bakura to return. He hoped this would work. Fervently, he willed the fabric of this plan to fold together, because there was no other plan where this was concerned. They were all fucked if this didn't work. And he couldn't bear the thought of being cast out of the museum, the society, the world that he presently knew.

When Bakura finally walked through the door, it was past midnight and Marik had been dozing beside the window pane. Through the dim moonlight, Marik eyed Bakura as he approached, and his gaze caught on the chunk of pure gold in Bakura's hands. Marik smiled at him as he reached for the gold and touched the glinting metal. His fingers brushed against Bakura's by accident, and he felt his heart race suddenly. Because of the gold, because of the plan, because it was the middle of the night and he was shaking with anticipation? Marik didn't know.

Bakura sat on the windowsill beside him, leaving the gold between them. The darkness seemed to make this whole plan so daring, so daunting. It reminded Marik of his Battle City days, when he plotted against Yugi with Bakura's help. There was something so fulfilling and forbidding about those days, and suddenly, he felt that power again.

"Worried?" Bakura asked, watching Marik carefully.

"No," Marik said.

Bakura raised an eyebrow. "You lie to everyone else. No need to lie to me."

Marik didn't reply. Instead he pressed his fingers against the solid gold, and tried picturing the spell in his mind.

"This will work," he said, envisioning the ancient spell, the words on his tongue.

Bakura was silent for a moment, staring at Marik, trying to see what he saw. Imagine what he imagined. But Marik was a closed book, and no amount of staring would reveal that to him.

"We should get to bed if we're doing the spell tomorrow," Bakura said.

Marik nodded, distracted. "I let Ryou have the bed, so you're on the couch tonight. I'll take the floor."

Bakura scowled a little, but then said, "Fair enough."

After setting the solid gold aside, they both prepared for bed and fell into a fitful sleep.

 

* * *

  
In the morning, Marik hardly bothered with breakfast. He slapped some food on all of their plates, ate quickly, and cleaned up before either Bakura or Ryou seemed fully awake. He was anxious to do the spell and get it over with, and before long, he had set the gold on the kitchen floor and sat down to get started.

"Bakura, we'll need your Ring to be here with the solid gold," Marik instructed. "And I'll need to draw some blood from you."

"Blood?" Ryou looked slightly faint at the thought. "Why?"

"Because we need the connection from the Items' past. They were forged out of blood, and we need to mimic that when we do the spell."

Bakura looked like he had no problem with that. All three of them sat on the kitchen tiles, while Marik ran through the words in his head again, testing them on his tongue. He ran his fingers against the pure gold again, getting a feel for its surface, imagining how it could be shaped into the Ring.

"Give me your hand," Marik told Bakura.

Grabbing Bakura's hand, he pressed a small, sharp knife against the skin of Bakura's index finger, drawing a small drop of blood. Marik glanced at him, watching for his reaction. Bakura said nothing as Marik guided his hand toward the solid gold, and pressed his blood into the metal. At the cool touch, Bakura flinched, and Marik briefly saw the ghost of a memory. The moment Bakura witnessed the blood of his people shaped and cast into the form of the seven Items.

Momentarily, the memory blinded them both, but then it was gone, and Marik began reciting the spell. His words wound around the metal, and he imagined the metal's new, distorted form. He saw in his mind's eye the shape of the Ring, and the words burned his mouth as they escaped. He no longer saw the gold, but only the string of ancient hieroglyphs, the words he had learned so long ago, as they scoured his mouth and smoldered through his teeth.

He was concentrating so hard on the spell that he was surprised when he suddenly heard Ryou gasp, and Marik blinked and finally looked at the solid gold again.

And what he saw before him was nothing short of incredible.

In front of him lay a near-perfect copy of the Ring.


	22. Chapter 22

When Marik woke up on Sunday, his heart was already hammering in his chest. Today was the day. Ryou would go to the dig site, pretend to find the Ring, and hand over the fake one to the officials.

Marik tried to tell himself not to be so nervous. There was no reason this shouldn't work. As far as the three of them could tell, the fake ring looked totally authentic. It _felt_ authentic, too- almost. The combination of the glamour and Bakura's blood had made the fake ring thrum with what felt like the remnants of an ancient power. True, all three of them could feel the difference between the fake ring and the real one- but the difference was minute. Almost unnoticeable. Besides, a person with no connection to the items couldn't _feel_ the power inside them at all- they would only be aware of the power should that small bit of leftover magic be activated to release a burst of energy, which was all any of the items were capable of anymore. And that drop of Bakura's blood had ensured that the fake ring could do that. They had tested it out, and they had all agreed that it looked right. So there was no reason it shouldn't be enough to fool the museum officials, and anyone else who looked upon the fake. And the glamour would make sure that the experts at the museum saw the fake ring as something ancient, rather than something newly created. So really-

Marik turned at the sound of the couch springs squeaking to see Bakura rolling over, stretching and yawning.

"How long did you plan to sit there staring into space?" Bakura asked.

Marik dragged himself to his feet, wincing as a sharp pain shot through his lower back. It was really no fun sleeping on the floor. "I'm just a little nervous, alright?"

Just then, Ryou walked into the living room, flicking a strand of damp hair out of his face. He must have just finished showering. "Don't be nervous. I'm sure everything will go well."

Marik nodded and tried to smile. "It probably will. I want to thank you again for helping us. We really do appreciate it."

Ryou waved it off. "I should probably be going. I don't want to be late."

"Don't you want to eat first?"

Ryou smiled and grabbed an orange from Marik's counter. "This will do."

Marik nodded. "Well, good luck."

Ryou thanked him and headed out the door. Marik tried to take comfort in the fact that Ryou didn't seem worried at all, but it really wasn't much help.

Marik busied himself cooking breakfast for himself and Bakura, but after he'd served up the food, Marik found that he could eat little, and by the time the dishes were in the sink, he was clearly a nervous wreck, pacing jerkily around the kitchen as Bakura watched.

"You're making me dizzy with that," Bakura finally said.

"I can't help it. I-"

Bakura kicked a chair out from the table. "Sit _down_ , Marik," he said, forcibly grabbing Marik by the shoulders and shoving him down into the chair. Marik looked at him in shock, but before he could say anything, Bakura was down on his knees in front of him, his hands at the waistband of the sweat pants Marik had slept in.

"What- what are you-"

"Taking your mind off things," Bakura said, smirking. "Besides, I kind of figure I owe you. You know, because of what you did when I was all sliced up."

Marik didn't question him any further, and soon he felt Bakura's warm mouth around him. Moments later, all thoughts of worry flew from his head, drowned out by the sensation of Bakura's tongue lapping at the sensitive underside of his cock.

Marik leaned his head back and just enjoyed it, giving himself over completely to feeling. He unthinkingly reached his hands out and grabbed Bakura's forearms, his nails digging into the pale skin.

At first, Marik tried not to move, wanting it to last longer, but it had just been so _long_ since he'd had Bakura in this way, and it seemed as if he'd never get used to the feeling, Bakura's soft, wet mouth taking him in and out and sucking and licking, and his hand following after, slippery with saliva and squeezing him tightly.

He knew he couldn't hold on much longer, and finally he gave in and arched towards Bakura, trying to get deeper. He heard Bakura laugh a little, the rumble sending pleasurable vibrations through his cock that seemed to light up every nerve in his body, bringing him ever closer. When he felt Bakura's other hand slip between his legs, his fingertips gently brushing along the crease in his thigh, he completely lost it, and before he could help it, he cried out Bakura's name as he came.

Bakura swallowed it all, and before Marik could even start thinking again, Bakura had already stood up and turned away.

"Go get dressed," Bakura said, without turning around.

For a moment, Marik sat dazed, but then he got up, his legs shaky, and headed back to his bedroom to put on his clothes for the day. By the time he got back to the kitchen, Bakura had changed out of his nightclothes as well, and was absentmindedly shuffling his deck.

"Wanna play a card game? Just for fun?" Bakura asked. "Not much else to do."

Marik shrugged. "Sure."

The two sat down at the table and readied their decks. The game dragged on for longer than usual, and when Bakura won in the end, he grumbled that he should have insisted on a bet, which only made Marik smile.

The rest of the day passed, and Marik's nervousness slowly began to seep back in. He practically jumped out of his skin when he finally heard Ryou come in the door.

"Ryou! How did it go?"

"Everything went according to plan," Ryou smiled. "I gave them the fake, and they didn't seem to suspect anything."

"Yes, but the museum officials haven't had a chance to really examine it yet," said Bakura, his arms crossed over his chest. "So we don't know anything for sure yet."

"No need to be so negative," said Ryou. "Still, though, I'll stick around for a couple more days, just to make sure there isn't any trouble and that you don't need my help for anything else."

Ryou seemed to suddenly think of something, and turned to Marik. "If that's alright with you, Marik."

"Of course, Ryou. I- we- really appreciate how helpful you've been. I can't thank you enough."

"It's no problem, really," said Ryou, seeming a little embarrassed at being thanked so much.

"Well," said Marik, "I was about to cook dinner."

"That would be great," said Ryou. "I'm pretty hungry."

As Marik began to prepare dinner, Ryou headed off to take a shower, as he was covered in dirt from digging all day. By the time Ryou came back into the kitchen, Marik was just setting their plates on the table.

"So, how was your day?" Marik asked, turning to Ryou. "You were gone a pretty long time."

"Well, I didn't want to find it too quickly- I thought that might seem suspicious," said Ryou. Marik nodded. "It wasn't bad, though. I got to talk to some people. Your sister was there. Yugi, too."

"What?" Bakura burst out. "Why the hell is that asshole still here? He already found the stupid Puzzle, he should be gone!"

Ryou's eyes widened in alarm. "Oh, gods, I'm sorry, Bakura. I shouldn't have mentioned-"

"Why?" repeated Bakura viciously.

"Well, he's just staying until the dig is over," said Ryou. "He'd like to see all the items unearthed. He's got strong feelings about them. After all, they were a big part of his life."

" _He's_ got strong feelings about the items," Bakura scoffed, forcefully stabbing his fork into his plate.

"He'll be gone soon, I'm sure," Ryou said, trying to be reassuring. He scrambled for something to say to change the subject. "You're a really excellent cook, Marik."

"Thanks," said Marik. "It's nothing."

Ryou tried to fill up the rest of dinner with conversation. He was majoring in theology, as he'd always had an interest in all things supernatural and mystical, and he told the other two about his classes. Marik listened with interest, but Bakura continued to stare down into his food, not seeming to pay much attention.

By the time dinner was done and Marik had cleaned the dishes, Bakura did seem a little calmer, and he even said goodnight to Ryou when he announced that he'd had a long day and was going to bed. Soon after, Marik said he wanted to go to bed as well, since he had to get up for work the next morning.

As Marik laid his blankets and pillows on the floor in front of the couch, Bakura said, "I still can't believe you gave him the bed."

"He's a guest, Bakura."

"And what am I?"

"An annoyance," Marik said, smiling, and Bakura gave him a tart look.

"Well, I'm not tired at all yet," said Bakura. "But he's sleeping in there and you're sleeping in here. So what am I supposed to do? I can't watch TV or use the computer or do anything in here if you're trying to sleep- not without hearing endless bitching from you, anyway."

"I'm sorry, Bakura, but I need my sleep for work."

"Fine," said Bakura. He got up and walked out into the kitchen, grabbing his coat off the hook.

"Where are you going?" asked Marik.

"To steal another token," Bakura said. "Seems like a fine time."

"Alright," said Marik slowly. "Just...don't tell Ryou how I'm getting the tokens, alright? I doubt he'd approve."

Bakura rolled his eyes. "Fine, I have no reason to tell him. And I'll be back well before he wakes up, so he won't even know I'm gone."

"Well...okay, then," said Marik.

As Bakura left the apartment, Marik lay his head down and tried to get some rest.

 

* * *

  
The next morning, Marik woke up with a shiny little blue token laying next to his head on the pillow. As soon as he realized what it was, he quickly grabbed it and put it away with the rest of his tokens. He would have thanked Bakura, but he was still asleep, and Marik didn't think he'd appreciate being woken up. So Marik went about readying himself for work. By the time he walked out the door, neither Bakura nor Ryou had stirred.

When Marik arrived at work, his nerves began jumping again. If the officials had found anything remiss about the fake ring, he would probably hear about it today from Ishizu. The day passed slowly as he waited, dreading the thought of Ishizu showing up and pulling him aside to give him more distressing news. But as it turned out, he didn't see her all day, and he felt a wave of relief when he was finally able to clock out and head home.

When Marik got back the apartment, he found Ryou cooking dinner. Based on the faint sounds coming from the living room, he assumed Bakura was in there, watching TV.

"Oh, Ryou, you don't have to do that," said Marik, nodding toward the pans of food that were already starting to sizzle on the stove.

"It's no trouble," said Ryou. "Really, you've opened your home to me; it's the least I can do."

Marik laughed, and Ryou looked at him curiously. "What's so funny?"

"It's just- you look so much like Bakura, but everything you say is the exact opposite of what he would say. Hearing that come out of your mouth, when you look so similar to him- it's just funny." Marik raised his voice slightly, so that Bakura would be able to hear him from the living room over the TV. "I've let Bakura stay here for months, and I don't think I could get him to do any housework if I put a gun to his head."

Ryou smiled sweetly, just as Bakura yelled from the living room, "I told you, Ishtar, I didn't come here to be your maid!"

Marik smiled indulgently and shook his head as he walked off into the living room. "And yet, somehow, you expect me to be _your_ maid."

"Well, I guess life isn't fair," said Bakura, as he popped a cigarette into his mouth. "Big surprise."

Marik rolled his eyes and sat down next to Bakura on the couch.

"So, what did you two do all day while I was at work?" Marik asked, curious.

Suddenly, a malicious smile came onto Bakura's face that Marik didn't like one bit. But when Bakura spoke, his voice sounded totally casual. "Oh, we spent the day fucking."

Marik's eyes went as big as saucers. " _What_?"

Bakura shrugged. "Well, the- arrangement- between you and I will be ending soon, so I'll need to find someone else to have sex with. Figured I might as well get started now."

Marik was stunned. "You- you really- you actually-" he sputtered.

Bakura suddenly burst out laughing. "Of _course_ not! I was just messing with you!"

Marik hadn't even noticed the tight feeling in his chest and stomach until he felt the knots unwind, flooding him with a strange sense of relief. "Bakura! That was _not_ funny!"

"Yes it was!" Bakura said, still laughing hysterically.

Marik was bewildered. "Why would you even joke about something like that?"

"I just wanted to see how you'd react. And trust me, it was priceless. You should have seen the look on your face!"

"You're such a jerk," Marik said, sounding sulky and crossing his arms over his chest.

"I don't know why you should care," said Bakura. His laughter having subsided, he was now back to sounding nonchalant. "You're the one who wants to end this arrangement for the sake of your reputation. I'm sure you don't expect me to be celibate for the rest of my life after you."

"I-" Marik started. "I don't care. I was just shocked, that's all."

A look of annoyance flashed on Bakura's face, then was gone. "I can't believe you actually thought I was serious, anyway. I like Ryou alright, I suppose, but he's really not my type. Do you actually think I go for the sweet, polite, angelic sort? Besides, Ryou isn't even gay. He has a girlfriend back in Japan."

Marik saw an opportunity to change the subject and ran with it. "He does? What's she like?"

"Well, he seems to really like her, but I guess he's kind of upset that she's not as serious about the relationship as he would- I don't know, he was going on and on, and I kind of started to tune out."

"Seriously, you're _such_ a jerk," said Marik, shaking his head in exasperation.

Bakura seemed about to retort, but just then, they heard Ryou calling loudly from the kitchen that dinner was ready. Once in the kitchen, Bakura located the only plate with meat on it and picked it up. It seemed to be some kind of chicken dish.

"Thanks, Ryou," Bakura said, and Ryou beamed.

"Oh, he _can_ be civil," Marik said sarcastically.

Bakura ignored him. "Well, I'm going to eat in the living room."

"Oh, no you are not!" said Marik. "You know I don't want you eating over my carpet. You'll make a mess!"

"Sorry, the newest episode of The Walking Dead just finished downloading, and I intend to watch it now."

"Bakura, you can watch that any time!"

"Nope, watching it now," Bakura said. "And if you don't want to eat in the living room with me, you're going to miss it..."

Marik hesitated for a moment. He really wanted to watch it, too, and Bakura knew it. "Damn you! Fine!" he finally said.

Bakura smiled in triumph and took his plate to the living room, Marik and Ryou following after him.

"So," Ryou said, before Bakura had a chance to start playing the show, "what's this show about, anyway?"

"It's about life after the zombie apocalypse," Marik said. "You like the occult, Ryou, it might interest you."

"Actually," said Bakura, "it's mostly about this really boring love triangle that literally no one cares about, and these irritating characters nobody likes give dull speeches for an hour and there are almost no zombies."

"Yeah, nobody's really sure why they watch it," Marik said.

"Because of Daryl," Bakura pointed out.

"Oh, right," said Marik. "Well, anyway, you'll see, Ryou."

Just then, Marik heard a splat, and he turned to see that Bakura had dropped a chunk of chicken onto the floor.

"Oops, sorry," said Bakura, not sounding the least bit sorry.

"Damn it, Bakura!"

"Oh, don't worry about it," said Bakura. "You can clean it up later."

" _I_ can clean it up-" Marik started. "I swear, Bakura-"

Before Marik could get another word out, Bakura started laughing and very purposefully thew another small piece of chicken to the floor.

"What the hell!" Marik yelled, but Bakura was still laughing, and not paying any attention at all to Marik's irritation.

Marik turned to Ryou. "You know, Ryou, that's his favorite hobby- ruining my carpet."

"Oh, yes, it's my hobby," Bakura said with overblown sarcasm. "It's what I fucking _live_ for."

Ryou giggled a little, and Marik and Bakura both looked at him curiously.

"I swear," said Ryou, "you two _still_ argue like a married couple."

Marik turned away, a blush spreading across his cheeks, but Bakura snapped his head around and retorted, "What the fuck is _that_ supposed to mean?"

Ryou looked slightly taken aback. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean anything by it."

"You obviously meant something," Bakura said, narrowing his eyes.

"It's nothing," Ryou said, and Bakura glared at him. "I mean, it's just...well, you know, the way you guys acted toward each other during the Battle City tournament...I always kind of assumed there were feelings...I thought it was a bit obv-"

"There are _not_ \- there never were- _feelings_ ," Bakura growled.

Ryou flinched away from Bakura's harsh tone. "I'm sorry," he said again.

"If you don't believe me, I'll have you know that after this tournament is over, I'm leaving, and I'll never see _that_ idiot again," Bakura said, thrusting a thumb at Marik.

Ryou looked surprised, his eyes wide and innocent. "Leaving? Why?"

"Well, our life paths aren't exactly going in the same direction, what with me being a thief and that brat insisting on keeping up his stupid little 'good guy' act."

Marik had been silent this entire time, but now he spoke up and snapped, "It is _not_ an act! I'm so fucking sick of you saying-"

Ryou shrunk back into the couch, as if he wished he could disappear. "I'm really, really sorry," he said quietly. "I didn't mean to touch a nerve. Please just forget I said anything."

The anger drained out of Marik, and he looked at Ryou sympathetically, and with a little guilt. "It's not your fault, Ryou. I know you didn't mean-"

"Shut _up,_ Marik," said Bakura.

Ryou looked alarmed again, and quickly tried to think of something to say to defuse any further anger and yelling. "Hey, Bakura? After you leave here, if you ever need a place to stay, or even if you just want to visit, you can look me up, you're always welcome..."

Bakura rolled his eyes, but now the look on his face had changed from one of anger to one of mild irritation mixed with indulgence. "Ryou, has anyone ever told you that your kindness is sickening?"

Ryou gave Bakura a shaky smile. "Yes, _you_ have. Several times, in fact."

Bakura couldn't seem to help returning Ryou's smile. The kid was good all the way down; it was hard to stay angry with him. "You know what? Maybe I _will_ stop by sometime," he finally said. "Now that that's settled, can we all just shut up and watch the stupid show?"

The other two didn't reply, so Bakura took that as an agreement, grabbing the remote and pressing play. No one said another word throughout the entire episode.

When the show was over, Bakura began to flip through the channels, and the three continued to stare at the TV in silence until Ryou said that he was tired and wanted to go to bed. Marik bid him goodnight and then announced that he was going to take a shower. By the time he got out, Bakura was already asleep on the couch, so Marik grabbed his own blanket and pillow and bedded down on the floor.

For a while, he tossed and turned, uncomfortable on the hard floor, but he was truly worn out after a long day of work, and eventually he fell into a restless sleep.

 

* * *

  
It seemed as if only minutes had passed before Marik was awoken by a sharp rapping at his front door.

Apparently, the noise had woken Bakura as well, because he heard him growl, "Who the hell would be knocking at this hour?"

Marik looked blearily at the clock. "It's after seven," he said. "Whoever it is probably wants to catch me before I head in to work."

Marik suddenly snapped fully awake as it hit him that someone was knocking on the door, and there was Bakura, right in his living room.

"Bakura, go hide in my room!" he hissed. "And wake Ryou, if he isn't up already."

Bakura didn't say anything, but got up and stalked back to Marik's bedroom, slamming the door a little harder than was strictly necessary. Marik started for the door, but then he remembered something, and quickly threw his blankets and pillow onto the couch. It wouldn't do for it to look like two people had been sleeping in the living room- it was only supposed to be himself and Ryou here, so it wouldn't make any sense for there to be two sets of bedding in the living room, when there was obviously a perfectly good bed in the bedroom.

Marik's heart was already pounding by the time he got to the door, and it jumped straight into his throat when he opened it and saw who was standing on the other side.

"Hello, Marik," said Yugi.


	23. Chapter 23

At the sight of Yugi standing in his doorway, Marik was stunned speechless. For a moment, it was just the look of Yugi that shocked him- like Ryou, he had grown taller, but unlike Ryou, his muscles had filled out impressively. He no longer looked like the sweet, innocent kid that Marik remembered. Even his voice was different, more deep and commanding now.

But it was far more than that which caused Marik to feel so unnerved. Why was Yugi showing up unannounced at his apartment? What did he want?

Marik tried to find his voice. "Hello, Yugi. It's good to see you." Marik's palms had begun to sweat, and he placed his hands behind his back, trying to seem casual.

"It's good to see you too, Marik," Yugi replied. "I'm sorry I haven't been keeping in touch."

"That's alright," said Marik. "I know you've been really busy."

"I'd been meaning to stop by and catch up with you, since I'm sticking around Egypt until they're finished with the dig."

Marik forced a smile. "Yes, Ryou mentioned to me that you were still in town. Is that why you're here? To visit? Because I think Ryou is still asleep, so we should probably go-"

But Yugi shook his head. "I really did want to come see you and say hi, but unfortunately, that's not why I'm here."

Yugi looked genuinely apologetic, but his words froze Marik; it felt as if the blood in his veins had been turned to ice.

Finally, Marik managed to say, "Then why-"

"I need to talk to Ryou," said Yugi, looking regretful. "It's- it's kind of urgent."

"I'll go get him," Marik said, trying his hardest to remain calm. "Come on into the kitchen."

As Yugi entered, Marik headed back to the bedroom, trying not to hurry too much so that he didn't look suspicious. He tapped on the door.

"Ryou? Are you up? Yugi is here, and he needs to talk to you."

Ryou came out of the door, and Marik led him back into the kitchen where Yugi was waiting.

"Marik-" said Yugi. "This is kind of a private matter. Do you mind...?"

"Oh, of course," Marik said, trying keep his expression neutral. "But I need to get dressed for work. Just let me go change, and then I'll be out of here."

Yugi nodded, and Marik went back to the bedroom once more.

Bakura was standing silently in the bedroom, a look of worry and distress on his face. Without thinking, Marik grabbed his hand and squeezed it. Bakura didn't pull away.

Marik leaned over and whispered as quietly as he could, "I'm sorry, I couldn't get rid of him. I have to go to work. It's going to be torture waiting until I get home to find out what this is about..."

Bakura stood stiffly and said nothing, and before he could stop himself, Marik dropped a kiss on Bakura's neck. Then he abruptly pulled away from Bakura, turning and quickly changing into his work clothes.

When Marik got back into the kitchen, Ryou gave him a shaky smile. "Have a good day at work, Marik."

Marik tried to keep himself from wincing. Ryou already looked guilty. If Yugi was here about any kind of serious problem, this would not go well.

Marik forced a smile. "Thanks, Ryou. I'll see you tonight. Just remember to lock the door after Yugi when he leaves. Oh, and Yugi, it was nice to see you again."

"You too, Marik," said Yugi.

Marik nodded and headed out the door. As soon as he was gone, Yugi said, "Why don't we sit down, Ryou?"

Ryou tried to smile as he sat down at the kitchen table. Yugi took a seat across from him.

"You'll excuse me if I seem a little worried," said Ryou. "Wanting to talk to me alone...it sounds serious."

"Unfortunately, it is serious," said Yugi. "But I'm really here to help you, Ryou."

"Help me?"

"Yes. I wanted to come to you first. Before I bring this up to any...higher authorities," Yugi said. "I wanted to give you a chance to explain. And I hope it's not what I think."

Ryou was already starting to sweat. "And what do you think?"

"Well, first of all, Ryou, I know the ring you gave the museum officials isn't the real one," said Yugi. "I have a connection to all the items. Not enough to find any but the Puzzle myself, but enough to tell the difference between a real item and a fake one. I can _feel_ that it isn't real. And if I can feel it, I know you can. The museum officials don't know about it...they can't feel the power of the items like you and I...but I can't keep this quiet, Ryou. I can't withhold what I know from them."

Ryou sat, staring down at the table, his hands twisting in his lap. "You've told me what you know," he said quietly. "Now tell me what you think."

"I'm really, really sorry to accuse you, Ryou," said Yugi. And he did genuinely look sorry. "But I think you stole the real Ring."

Ryou looked up in genuine shock. After all, he hadn't stolen the Ring, so he hadn't at all expected to be accused of that. "Me? Steal the Ring?"

"Well, frankly, Ryou, you've stolen it before. From me. And I just can't think of any other reason why you'd hand over a fake."

"I- I-"

Yugi shook his head. "Ryou, if you can't give me an explanation, I'm really going to have to report this to the proper authorities. The items are important to me. And the Ring isn't yours. I know your father gave it to you, and that it has sentimental value to you because of that, and that's why you stole it from me years ago. But you can't just steal a priceless artifact. It doesn't belong to you- it belongs to the people of Egypt and the museum."

Ryou didn't even hear him. He was trying to think faster than he'd ever thought in his life. He had to come up with some kind of explanation. He needed to stall.

"I have an explanation," Ryou said quietly.

Yugi raised his eyebrows and waited.

Ryou had gone back to staring down at his hands. Finally, he whispered, "I'm embarrassed to tell you."

Yugi quickly reached across the table and grabbed one of Ryou's hands out of his lap, holding it gently. He looked Ryou in the eyes. "Whatever it is, you can tell me."

"I- I can't-"

"Ryou," said Yugi gently, "you know the alternative."

Ryou took a deep breath, detaching his hand from Yugi's. "Alright. But please...don't judge me."

"Go on, Ryou."

"Well," Ryou started, "I don't know if you know, but when the museum officials first contacted me and asked me to find the Ring, I said I couldn't do it because it would be too upsetting for me. But then I started to feel guilty. Without me, they'd never be able to find the Ring. Why should I be so selfish? So I called them back and told them I'd do it. They gave me a couple days to settle in before I had to go to the dig site. And just being here...in this part of Egypt, so close to the Millennium Items...I mean, at least in Domino, I had a life before all the horror, but this place means nothing to me but bad memories, it's nothing but the resting place of the Items...it just reminds me of all the people I hurt...including you..."

"That wasn't you, Ryou," Yugi cut in. "That was the Spirit of the Ring. You couldn't control it."

"I know," said Ryou, staring down again and looking ashamed. "But it feels like it was me."

Yugi reached out and patted Ryou's hand. "I know you've been through a lot. I'm sorry. But still...why give the museum a fake?"

"Well, once I was here, I realized I couldn't stand to find the Ring. I couldn't stand to see it again. I couldn't stand to touch it again. I just couldn't. And after talking to Marik, I found out that he could have found the Ring...they were actually going to ask him to do it if I couldn't...so I know I should have just told Marik to do it...but I was ashamed. I didn't want him to think I was weak. I'm tired of people thinking I'm weak! And I didn't want to shove my responsibilities off onto him."

"So you created a false ring and pretended to find it."

Ryou nodded sadly. "I know it was a stupid plan. But I just panicked. I couldn't find the real Ring, and I couldn't admit to anyone why I couldn't, so I just...did something stupid."

"You should have just told someone, Ryou."

"I don't know why you think I'd steal that Ring!" Ryou burst out. "I wouldn't want to be anywhere near it! I can barely even stand the sight of the fake!"

"Alright, I believe you, Ryou," said Yugi. "You did look really surprised when I asked if you'd stolen it...and I can understand why you wouldn't want to find it."

"I'm really, really sorry, Yugi."

"Look, Ryou, it will be alright," said Yugi. "I'm just going to head over the museum now and explain the situation. I'm sure they'll be understanding. And they can have Marik find the real Ring. So no harm, no foul, right?"

Ryou smiled at him. "Thanks, Yugi. Thanks for coming to me first. And thanks for offering to explain things to them for me. I...I don't think I could face them."

"It's alright, Ryou. You're my friend." Yugi paused and then stood up. "I'm sorry this visit couldn't be more pleasant. But I really should get to the museum."

Ryou nodded. "Thanks again, Yugi."

Ryou walked Yugi to the door, and they bid each other goodbye. Once Yugi was out of the apartment, Ryou locked the door behind him and then immediately collapsed into a chair. He felt like he was going to faint.

Moments later, Bakura rushed out into the kitchen. His eyebrows were knotted and his jaw clenched; his entire demeanor was a clear sign that he’d heard the entire conversation.

Ryou looked at him tiredly. "So. I guess I'll be missing my flight home tonight. I can't leave until all this is cleared up."

Bakura didn't seem to hear him, as he strode right past Ryou. "Well," he said, "I'm going to kill Yugi."

"Oh, Bakura, no!" Ryou cried. "Not this again!"

But Bakura was already grabbing his coat. "It will solve our problem, won't it? If he's dead, he can't tell the museum officials."

"No, Bakura, no." Ryou was shaking. "No, it really won't solve our problem...just listen to me for a second!"

Bakura paused. "What."

"It's broad daylight! And Yugi's in a car, I just heard it pull out. What are you going to do, steal a car and have a high speed chase? Murder him in the middle of the street if you catch him? Everyone would see! And then they'd either think I killed him, or they'd know you were back! And all of this leads right back to Marik! You'd be taking us all down with you! If you want to keep anything from looking suspicious, murdering someone in the street in broad daylight is not the best plan!"

Bakura seemed to consider this for a moment. "Well, I could wait and kill him under the cover of night when no one's around."

"It will be too late by then," Ryou pointed out. "He's going to tell the museum officials right now. In fact, he'll be there within minutes. It's probably already too late to catch him. For all we know, he's already called them."

"Damn it," said Bakura. "I guess you're right."

Bakura sat down heavily in a chair. "I really, really want to kill Yugi, though."

Ryou sighed. "I know you do."

"But what are we going to do about this, then? Now we're right back to them asking Marik to find the Ring, and it's obviously not there."

"We'll think of something," said Ryou.

"Yes, because our last plan worked out _so_ well."

"Well, we'll just have to come up with something better," said Ryou. "Hey, I did pretty well with Yugi just now, didn't I? At least he doesn't know the truth about the Ring, and Marik looks totally innocent, and I bought us some time."

"Yeah, you did a pretty good job," Bakura conceded. "I didn't know you were such a good liar."

"Well, it was half true," admitted Ryou. "I really didn't like you hurting my friends, even if I understood your side of it. And I do have a lot of bad memories from that time."

"Well, I won't be hurting anyone anymore," said Bakura. "I like being a thief, but truth be told, I'm glad all the killing and fighting is behind me. When Marik first brought me back, I told him I just wanted to live my life instead of spending it fighting and struggling all the time. No matter how much I want to kill Yugi...I guess it wouldn't do anyone any good."

"That's right," said Ryou. "And you _will_ be able to live a life without constant struggle and fighting. Once Marik gets home, we'll talk, and we'll come up with something. I swear."

"I guess that's the best we have right now," Bakura sighed. After a pause, he said, "By the way...Yugi thinks you stole the Ring from him three years ago because of your father?"

"What?"

"Didn't you hear him? He doesn't even know you took the Ring from him because of me. He thinks you took it because your father gave it to you and it has sentimental value to you. Your father?" Bakura scoffed. "Do you even see that guy?"

Ryou shrugged. "Not often."

"Yugi is such a fucking idiot," Bakura said. He paused again. "I _really_ want to kill him."

Ryou just rolled his eyes.

 

* * *

  
Marik rushed to get home that evening. He'd been in a state of near panic since morning, when Yugi had shown up at his door unannounced, and was anxious to find out what Yugi had told Ryou. When Marik finally stepped through the front door, he saw a pair of grim faces glance up at him and immediately knew that it hadn't gone well.

"What happened?" Marik asked, dropping off his coat as he approached the two, who had been sitting on the living room couch. "Ryou, aren't you flying out tonight?"

Bakura pursed his lips, and Ryou gave Marik a pained expression.

"Marik, you'd better take a seat."

The tone sent a shiver up Marik's spine as he sat down on the couch.

Finally, he repeated, "What happened? What did Yugi want?"

"Yugi knows that we gave them a fake," Bakura snapped, which didn't help the tension in the room at all. "He can sense all the Millennium Items, so when he came across the fake one, he knew right away that it wasn't real. He came here to tell Ryou that he's going to report it to the museum officials, and wanted to see if Ryou had an explanation before he went."

Marik visibly paled. "Oh, fuck. What did you tell him?"

"I told him a lie," Ryou said, staring at his hands. "I said that being here, so near to the Millennium Items, gave me too many bad memories and that's why I couldn't find the Ring. I said I was too ashamed to tell anyone because it would make me seem weak, and just created a fake one out of panic."

"So you took the blame for it?" Marik asked, incredulous. He had to admit that he was impressed with Ryou, especially now, when he'd flown halfway around the world to help them out and was still sticking up for them.

Ryou nodded. "I didn't want either of you to get in trouble."

"Did Yugi say he's going to turn you in?"

"No," Ryou said, smiling. "I think I convinced him that I was just being stupid, and he said he'd explain the whole thing to the officials so I wouldn't be taken in."

Marik gave him a small smile, but Bakura was watching them both coldly.

"That's great and all, but I think it's worth pointing out that we _still_ have a problem. I'm sure the museum officials know by now that the Ring they have is fake, and they're going to come to _you_ -" he glanced at Marik, "-to find the real one."

"We need a new plan, then," Marik said.

"Right. So what are our options?" Bakura asked.

Marik could see that Bakura was clearly stressed, perhaps more so than either he or Ryou. His eyes were dark and feral, as if at any moment he might flare up, and he was drumming his fingers against the couch arm.

"Can we get a better fake?" Ryou asked. "I know we've already tried a fake, but maybe if we tried another spell, or did it in a different way..."

Marik shook his head. "I don't know any other spells. If I tried anything new, it probably wouldn't be any better than the one we gave them."

"I see," Ryou nodded, looking deep in thought. "And Yugi already knows that the real Ring is somewhere close by, so he'd probably know if we gave them another fake."

"Plus, Yugi's already suspicious," Marik continued. "If we pull another trick on him, he's not going to be so forgiving this time."

"Right," Ryou said.

They sat in silence for a few minutes, each trying to come up with a plan. Somewhere far off, the clock on Marik's wall was ticking and he realized that he hadn't had dinner yet. The hunger in his stomach was replaced by another ache, a realization that if they didn't find a solution, this could jeopardize everything he'd been working toward.

"Bakura," Marik suddenly said. "Do you have any ideas?"

Bakura glanced at him. The ferocity in his eyes had deepened. It was moments like this that reminded Marik of Bakura's origins, the darkness that had shaped his past.

"Well, we can't give Yugi a fake, and we sure as hell can't give him the real one, so no. I have no other ideas."

Suddenly, Ryou piped up. "Why _can't_ we give him the real one?"

Bakura glanced at Ryou sharply, as if the boy had slapped him across the face. "What the hell kind of a question is that?"

"Well, hear me out," Ryou said, unaffected by Bakura's glare. "If we gave him the real one for now, they would have no reason to suspect anything. We would be giving them exactly what they want-"

"Which is exactly why we _shouldn't_ give it to them!" Bakura snapped.

"-but you can just take it back from them later!" Ryou finished.

Bakura didn't seem to have even heard Ryou. He was staring at him indignantly. "There's no fucking way I'm giving them the Ring. I've fought too long to give it up like this. Those bastards don't even deserve to lay their hands on it."

Marik's eyes lit up. "Wait, Bakura. I think Ryou has a point. If we give them the Ring now, it can always be stolen again later. You said yourself that you're going to leave at the end of the tournament, so you can just steal it back before you go."

At that, Bakura looked as if he'd been drenched in a bucket of ice water. Every muscle in his face was tensed, his eyes wild, his fists clenched. He glowered at Marik before he slowly stood up from the couch, and Marik instantly knew that he'd struck a nerve.

"This is getting ridiculous," Bakura said. "I'm surprised that you're even suggesting this."

"Bakura, look," Marik started, licking his dry lips. He didn't want to argue. They needed to stick together, especially now, but their camaraderie was unraveling so quickly that Marik hardly had a chance. "It's a definite possibility- and we don't really have many others now. You won't be giving up the Ring for that long, plus it's not like you need it right now anyway. You can get it back any time-"

But Bakura had already turned his back and strode toward the front door, grabbing the knob with brute force. "Save your breath, Marik. If you're even seriously considering that option, I don't want to be part of this discussion."

He slammed the door on his way out.

Ryou glanced at Marik, looking grim. "I'm sorry he's so stubborn," he said.

Marik ran his hands through his hair, heaving a deep breath. "Not your fault. It's Bakura we're talking to. He needs to be eased in to things, not have them thrown at him. He just needs time."

"Do you really think this is our best option?" Ryou asked.

"Yes, I really do," Marik said, standing up. "I didn't seriously consider it before, because this is the kind of reaction I got from him. But at this point, we've run out of other options. I think this is the best thing we've got. There's no way Yugi will suspect anything if we give him the real Ring."

Ryou nodded, still looking deep in thought.

"Anyway, let's clear our heads. I'm going to make some dinner, if you're hungry."

At that, Ryou smiled widely. "Starved, actually. Bakura's really horrible when it comes to doing anything around the house, so I've been cooking for us."

Marik laughed, happy to find something more frivolous to discuss. "Tell me about it."

They spent the next hour cooking and talking, trying to steer their conversation clear of the plans regarding the Ring. Still, their previous discussion nagged at Marik, and despite the easy conversation he had with Ryou, he kept thinking about their plan, trying to see how it could work from each angle.

After dinner, they sat down to watch TV, and had gotten through two shows before the front door suddenly opened, and Bakura walked in.

There was a clear change in his demeanor. He no longer looked enraged. Instead, he looked resigned.

"Hey," Marik said, watching him carefully.

Bakura wordlessly sat down on the couch beside them, and Marik caught Ryou's eye quickly, unsure of how to handle this calmer side of Bakura.

Finally, Bakura said, "Alright."

"Alright, what?" Marik asked.

"Let's give them the Ring."

"Just like that?"

Bakura gave Marik a searing look. "Do you _not_ want me to agree to this stupid plan of yours, or what? Yes, just like that."

"What changed your mind?" Marik pressed, genuinely curious.

Bakura sighed. "It's like you said, we don't have many options now. Besides, I'll steal it back right at the end of the tournament. And the moment you win and get your damned reputation back, I'll be gone."

That statement struck Marik hard. His breath hitched momentarily as the realization hit him. Bakura really would be gone if they followed through with this plan. There was no way he could steal the Ring and still hang around Luxor with it in his possession. The officials would be immediately suspicious. Marik couldn't even imagine the uproar once they realized it was missing, and started doing a thorough search for the item.

Still. The way Bakura was looking at him as he stated mere facts was wrenching.

"Right," Marik said. "It would be too dangerous for you to stick around after that."

Bakura nodded. "I'll steal it during the finals while you're at a duel, so that way you'll have an alibi. If they even suspect you, everyone who watched the duel will know there's no way you could've stolen it."

"Right," Marik repeated, somehow feeling empty as he agreed. "And Ryou will be back in Japan by that time, so he won't be suspected."

Ryou sensed the suddenly dismal atmosphere, watching the exchange between the two. He opened his mouth to say something, to try to cut through the carefully built web the two had created between themselves. There was something both very clear yet clandestine about their interactions. Whether it was pride or a genuine lack of self-awareness, he wasn't sure, but it tugged at his heart to watch it.

After that short discussion, the three fell quiet, and the rest of the night passed by in silence.

They all had a lot to think about.


	24. Chapter 24

It had been another long day at work, and when Marik got home, he made promptly for the kitchen. As he walked in, Bakura and Ryou glanced up at him from the kitchen table, two decks of cards at their elbows and a game in full swing.

"Duel Monsters, huh?" Marik said. "I hope you didn't let him make any bets, Ryou."

"What?" asked Ryou.

Marik smirked in satisfaction to see the slight blush spreading over Bakura's face.

"Never mind, Ryou. It's nothing," Marik said.

Ryou gave him a look of confusion, but didn't question him further.

Meanwhile, Bakura seemed to have regained his composure. "I attack you for 1,100 life points."

"Well, darn," Ryou said, throwing his cards down. "I guess I lose."

As Bakura began gathering up the cards, Ryou turned to Marik. "So, Marik, how was work? Did you hear anything yet?"

"Yeah, Ishizu talked to me," Marik said. "She said the officials have decided to let me try to find the Ring. She kind of let it slip that they didn't exactly come to the decision easily, though. Apparently, they were a little wary about asking me, after everything that happened with the fake."

Ryou looked at bit worried at the news that the officials were still suspicious of them. "So what made them decide to let you?"

"Well, Yugi stood up for us and said that I had nothing to do with the fake, and that you just made an innocent mistake anyway. He and my sister both told them that I'm trustworthy and that it would be best to let me search for the real Ring and prove your innocence by finding it. And in the end, they agreed."

"Well, that's good news," Ryou said, seeming relieved.

Marik turned to Bakura. "I know you hate Yugi, but if we didn't have someone so prominent in our corner, we'd all be screwed."

"We wouldn't have been in trouble in the first place if it weren't for that asshole," Bakura said darkly.

Marik furrowed his brow but didn't respond, unable to dispute what Bakura had said.

"I can't believe you're giving _my_ Ring to Yugi. _Again_ ," Bakura suddenly said, shooting Marik an accusatory glare.

Marik sighed in irritation, crossing his arms over his chest. "Alright, first of all, when I gave the Ring to Yugi three years ago, I thought you were _dead._ Secondly, I'm not giving the Ring to _Yugi_ this time, I'm giving it to the _museum._ "

Before Bakura could make a retort, Ryou quickly jumped into the conversation, wanting to prevent things from getting any more unpleasant. "When do you think you'll be digging, Marik?"

Marik looked grateful for the interruption and turned to Ryou. "Ishizu said they'll be calling me soon. I guess they'll let me know when they want me to dig when I talk to them."

"Well, I hope it's soon," Ryou said. He suddenly realized how that sounded, and quickly amended, "I mean, it's not that I haven't enjoyed visiting with you guys, it's just that I've been missing a lot of school...and my girlfriend..."

"I understand, Ryou, don't worry about it," said Marik. "We really appreciate you dropping everything just to help us."

"So, when's dinner?" Bakura broke in, not wanting to talk about any of this anymore. "I'm starved."

"Yeah, I'm pretty hungry too," Marik said, happy enough to change the subject. "I guess I'll get started on it now."

He immediately got out the pots and pans, and while Bakura watched TV, Marik and Ryou cut up vegetables and cooked rice for a _mahshi_ dish Marik had been wanting to make. Since Ryou was only with them for a short while, Marik figured it would be fitting to introduce him to some traditional Egyptian cooking, especially since he was a lot more receptive to vegetarian dishes than Bakura.

They had a quiet dinner- Bakura devouring his steak, as usual- and Marik was cleaning up when the phone suddenly rang. He frowned, picking up the receiver.

"Hello? Yes, this is him. Oh, of course, I'd be glad to. I'm honored that you asked me. Thank you. Yes, tomorrow after my shift will be fine. Yes. Goodbye."

Marik hung up the phone and turned to see Ryou looking at him expectantly.

"So, you'll be going to find the Ring tomorrow, huh?" asked Ryou.

"Looks like it," said Marik.

"How are you going to do it?"

"Well, it'll probably have to be hidden before I go out there to start looking for it," Marik said, biting his lip as he formulated a plan. "I can sense the Ring, so as long as it's at the dig site by tomorrow, I can find it for them."

"I'll hide it tonight, then," Bakura suddenly said, looking stoic.

Both Marik and Ryou turned to look at Bakura, surprised that he'd spoken up.

"What?" Bakura asked, noting their expressions. "I just want to get this over with. I'm not any more supportive of this plan than the moment you suggested it, but I don't see any other options, so I'll do whatever needs to get done."

Ryou nodded, giving Bakura a small smile.

Marik noticed that despite what he said, Bakura looked incredibly tense. "Alright, so you'll hide the Ring at the dig site tonight, and once I find it and give it back to the museum tomorrow, we'll be out of this whole mess."

There was a moment of silence, before Ryou said, "Well, now that everything's settled, I think I'd like to book my flight home. Do you mind if I use your computer, Marik?"

"Sure, go ahead," said Marik.

Ryou started to head for the computer, but then he glanced back at Bakura. He was clutching the Ring so tightly his knuckles were turning white.

"I know this is hard for you, Bakura, but don't worry so much," Ryou said. "You'll get it back soon."

"I know," said Bakura, still gripping the Ring as hard as ever.

Ryou gave Bakura a sympathetic look, but couldn't think of anything else to say. He shifted on his feet for a moment, and then finally left the room.

"Well," Marik ventured, "there is one upside to all this."

"And what the hell would that be?" asked Bakura.

"You won't have to worry about stealing any more tokens without the use of the Ring," said Marik.

Bakura looked at him in surprise. "What? Why?"

"Haven't you been paying attention to how many you've stolen?" asked Marik. From the look on Bakura's face, Marik could tell that he hadn't. "Well, I guess it's understandable with everything that's been going on lately. But that last token you got for me- that was the last one I needed. I didn't get to thank you for it because you were asleep when I woke up and found it on my pillow. Anyway, you don't have to steal any more, because now I have enough to get into the tournament."

"Yes, and that's always been the top priority, hasn't it?" Bakura spat. "It's the only reason I'm here, after all. Making sure you get into that stupid tournament has _always_ been the most important thing to me."

Marik sighed. "Bakura, I know you're upset about giving up the Ring, but the tournament is coming up in just a couple weeks. You'll have it back in no time."

"A couple weeks," repeated Bakura, sounding bitter. " _Just_ a couple of weeks without the Ring. And then I'll have it back and you'll never have to see me again."

Marik's features clouded. "I really do feel bad about you having to give up the Ring, but it's not my fault, so I wish you wouldn't take it out on me-"

"You really don't see what's right in front of your face, do you, Marik?" Bakura snapped. "Or maybe you just don't care."

Marik looked at him in confusion, and before he could respond, Ryou came back into the kitchen.

"Well, I've got my flight set for the day after tomorrow," Ryou said as he reentered the room. "So I'll still be here tomorrow while you're at the dig site. Assuming everything goes well, I'll be flying out the next evening."

"Will you need a ride to the airport?" Marik asked.

"No, I'll have to head out right around the time you'll be getting home from work. I'll just get a cab."

The moment Ryou said that, Marik realized that tonight was probably the last time all three of them would be together before Ryou had to leave for Japan. Since Marik would be at the dig site most of tomorrow night, and then had to work again the next day, they didn't have much time left.

"Marik, what's wrong?" Ryou suddenly asked, and Marik realized he must have looked deep in thought.

"I just realized we probably don't have much time left before you leave for Japan. Why don't we do something fun for the next few hours? I have some whiskey left over from a while back."

Ryou laughed. "I'm not much of a drinker, but sure. It'll be good to get our minds off of things."

Marik took out the bottle of whiskey he and Bakura had drunk what seemed like forever ago, and poured them all drinks. He had no intention of getting drunk, but merely wanted to diffuse the atmosphere.

The next hour was spent talking over everything but the dig site and the Ring. Marik wriggled out some interesting things about Ryou's girlfriend, and the current state of his relationship, as well as his plans after college. It was amazing how well Ryou knew himself, and what he wanted. There was no hesitation, no uncertainty. For someone who initially came off as being insecure and meek, Ryou was anything but those things.

Bakura loosened up a little too, but Marik could tell he was still on edge. He drank the least out of all three of them, and after an hour passed, he got up and said he needed to hide the Ring. Marik and Ryou stayed rooted to the kitchen table, and continued talking after Bakura left.

At one point, Ryou placed a finger on his lips, as if deep in thought, and looked at Marik seriously.

"Marik, I don't want to put you on the spot, but I feel like you keep dodging something."

"What?" Marik frowned, taking another gulp of his drink.

"Whenever I say anything about Bakura..." he started, and then drifted off.

"Bakura?" Marik asked, glancing away, not meeting Ryou's eyes.

Ryou laughed. "That’s exactly what I mean. You always seem so uncomfortable and evasive whenever the subject of Bakura and you comes up."

"Bakura and me?" Marik asked again, shifting around awkwardly.

"I mean," Ryou said, "I don't think I'm reading into things too much, but it doesn't seem like either of you are excited about Bakura leaving after the tournament-"

Suddenly, Marik got up from the table. "Alright, I’m putting this away," he said, stowing the whiskey and placing the glasses in the sink. "I think you've had enough. We both have."

Ryou opened his mouth to say something, but thought better of it. He got up from the kitchen table, and quietly helped Marik clean and put away the rest of the dishes. It was clear that these were not questions Marik wanted to answer, and for now, he would leave it at that.

In the next hour, Ryou bid Marik goodnight and went to bed, and Marik lay down on the couch. He was tired from the day's work, but his mind was still abuzz with thoughts. He really hoped their plan would work tomorrow, and he would finally be able to put this whole issue with the Ring to rest.

Marik was just drifting off when he heard the front door open, and Bakura walked in. He hung up his coat, and approached the couch.

"What the hell are you doing here? I thought I was sleeping on the couch."

"You can have the floor tonight," Marik mumbled, digging deeper into the covers.

Bakura scowled and stubbornly sat down on one end of the couch, effectively sitting on top of Marik.

"I don't think so. I'm the one who just risked getting caught by a guard by going out there tonight and hiding my own Ring. I deserve the couch a lot more than you do."

Marik tried wriggling out from beneath Bakura. "Well, I've got a long day tomorrow at work and then being at the dig site, so you're out of luck. Floor for you tonight."

At that point, Bakura moved to straddle Marik, taking up more of the couch. "Well, I'm not moving."

Marik rolled his eyes, but even as he did so, he noticed that the weight of Bakura on top of him was arousing. They hadn't had the chance to bet in a while, so maybe this was worth exploring. He grabbed Bakura's wrists, shifted his hips, and in one swift motion, managed to flip them both over so that Bakura was lying on his back, and Marik was straddling him instead.

Bakura grunted, dismayed at the way he'd been manhandled so easily. But then Marik rocked his hips against Bakura's, and Bakura briefly closed his eyes, lost in the sensation of their cocks rubbing together through their clothes.

"You know I'm definitely not moving now, right?" Bakura asked, his eyes still closed.

Marik smirked, suddenly finding the situation even more enticing. He had Bakura on his back and could elicit any sort of responses he wanted. Using one hand, he reached down to Bakura's pants and slowly undid the zipper. Pulling the jeans down his hips, he grabbed Bakura's cock through his boxers, and slowly ran his hand up and down.

Bakura's breath quickened and he writhed quietly, trying not to let on how much Marik's touch was affecting him. Soon, Marik's hand moved faster, and Bakura couldn't help the small groan that escaped his mouth. He was getting close quickly. He and Marik hadn't been all that physical since the whole mess with the Ring started, and his body was now quick to respond.

Suddenly, Marik removed his hand, but before Bakura could protest, his hips were back on top of Bakura's, and he started a slow grind that nearly pushed Bakura over the edge then and there. There were still layers of clothes between them, but the fact that Marik was moving so languorously, and the fact that it was _Marik_ who was making these motions were too much, and suddenly, Bakura's heart was racing and his mouth was open in a gasp as he clutched Marik's arms, and he finally came.

Marik could tell that Bakura had reached his climax, and that thought alone pushed him over, and he gave one last thrust before he finally came, too. There was a thin sheen of sweat on Bakura's face, especially his upper lip, and Marik was tempted to lean down and- what? Kiss him? He wasn't sure. He watched as Bakura's eyes fluttered shut, and in mere minutes, his breath had evened out, and he appeared to have fallen asleep. It had been a tough day for both of them, and Marik didn't have the heart to shove him off the couch when he looked so peaceful.

Although Marik was practically falling off the edge of the couch, he lay his head down and let his eyes close, and then he shifted a little closer to Bakura, just to get some more room. At that, Bakura sighed softly, his arms momentarily tightening around Marik, and Marik instantly felt a strange quiver at the bottom of his stomach, though he didn't know why. But he was too tired to think about it much, and soon he drifted off to sleep.


	25. Chapter 25

It was late by the time Marik got home from the dig site. He saw that Bakura was already passed out on the couch. Since he didn't see Ryou anywhere, and the bedroom door was closed, he assumed that Ryou was in there, also already asleep. He figured there was no reason to wake them; he'd promised that he'd tell them immediately if he had any important news- if anything went wrong at the dig site- but luckily, everything had gone perfectly.

Marik hadn't had much trouble locating the Ring. It wasn't as easy as the first time he'd dug it up- that time, he'd found it immediately because Bakura's spirit was actually inside, calling to him. But still, it hadn't been very difficult to find. He'd just closed his eyes and tried to sense where the Ring was. His senses had led him to the general area, he'd started digging, and soon, he came up with the Ring. Yugi was on hand to verify its authenticity, and then it had been immediately handed over to the museum officials.

He would have been home much sooner, but he'd gotten caught up talking to Yugi and the officials, and he didn't think it would have looked very good if he'd tried to excuse himself from the conversation. And anyway, it was good that he'd had the conversation- the museum officials actually seemed to be treating him with a new respect, now that he'd found the real Ring and turned it over. For the first time, they had talked to him almost as if he were an equal. So really, he should have felt overjoyed- this was the start of everything he'd been waiting for. But he didn't really feel anything except tired. He supposed it was just because he'd had such a long day, combined with all the stress of the past week or so.

He wanted to just fall straight into bed, but he was covered in dirt from the digging he'd done, so he really needed to wash. So he trudged into the bathroom and took a quick shower. By the time he was done, he was absolutely bone-tired, and he thought he would fall asleep the moment he lay down on his little pile of blankets on the floor.

Instead, though, he tossed and turned, feeling restless, and unable to get comfortable. He supposed the stress of recent events was still getting to him. Not to mention the fact that the floor was very hard, and the blankets didn't do much to soften it. It seemed that each time he slept on the floor was more painful than the last. Every time he slept there, he woke up with an ache in his back that was worse than the one he'd had the previous morning.

He really wished he could just sleep on the couch with Bakura again. The couch wasn't exactly the most comfortable place to sleep, but it was infinitely better than the floor, and not nearly as painful. The previous night had definitely been the best sleep he'd had since Ryou had gotten here. But he knew Bakura would be mad if he woke him up. So he stayed on the floor, shifting around irritably and trying to find a better position. But several minutes later, sleep still hadn't found him, and soon, he was already starting to feel a twinge of pain in his back.

Finally, he gave up, and crawled up onto the couch next to Bakura. He knew Bakura would be annoyed, but he wasn't going to fight about this. If Bakura didn't like it, _he_ could take the floor.

As soon as Marik's weight settled onto the couch, Bakura awoke with a start. "What's wrong? Did-"

"Ssh, Ryou's asleep. And nothing's wrong. Everything went fine. I just can't sleep on the floor another night. It's killing my back."

"Not my problem," said Bakura. "And fuck you for waking me up."

"Well, it _is_ your problem, because you're a guest here, and this is _my_ couch. I can sleep on it if I want to. And I'm way too tired to argue about this. I'm fucking exhausted. I just need a good night's sleep."

Bakura didn't say a word in response; instead, he just grabbed Marik's shoulders and tried to push him away. So Marik leaned toward him hard, putting all his weight into it, until Bakura was pinned against the back of the couch, their bodies pressed close together. When Bakura didn't react further or try to shove him away again, Marik let himself relax, and then he slid an arm around Bakura's waist, only because he found it uncomfortable to have both his arms trapped between their bodies. With the extra room now between them, Marik shifted a little closer, closing his eyes as he settled comfortably into Bakura's warmth.

"Marik-" Bakura said. "Why- why are you doing this to me?"

Bakura sounded almost breathless, though Marik couldn't figure out why. It wasn't as if he was rubbing against Bakura this time, or doing anything at all to turn him on. He was only lying next to him. And it really shouldn't have been that much of an imposition.

"What?" Marik asked. "What am I doing to you? Not wanting to sleep on the floor in my own house?"

"Nothing," Bakura said in a dull tone, sounding resigned. "You're not doing anything to me."

"Then quit complaining and let me go to sleep."

And for a wonder, Bakura did. He only sighed, a sound that seemed almost bittersweet, and Marik felt Bakura's arms wrap around him just as he finally drifted off to sleep.

 

* * *

  
When Marik got home from work the next day, he found Ryou standing in the kitchen, his bags packed and ready.

"Ryou! I'm glad I caught you before you left. I wanted to see you off."

"I'm glad, too," said Ryou. "My taxi should be here in about ten or fifteen minutes, so we have a little time."

"Well," said Marik, "I know I've said it before, but...really, I just wanted to thank you again for everything you've done for us."

"You're welcome," Ryou said. "It really wasn't much trouble, and I've enjoyed visiting with you guys."

"Well, you can always come back and visit me again sometime," Marik said. "It'd be great to see you again."

"That would be nice," said Ryou. "Though, preferably next time, it won't be during the school year."

"Yeah," agreed Marik. "Well, anyway, I'm really glad you enjoyed your stay."

"I did," said Ryou.

Then Ryou paused for a moment, a thoughtful look coming over his face. He was struggling with something, debating whether or not he should voice his thoughts. Finally, he decided to plunge ahead.

"Though, I feel bad about taking the bed from you and Bakura this whole time," he said, doing his best to sound casual. "You really should have just told me about your situation, and let me sleep on the couch."

Marik looked startled. "Ryou, I told you, we don't-"

"Marik," Ryou said, gently but firmly. "Last night, I woke up, and I was thirsty, so I came out into the kitchen to get a drink of water, and on my way there...I saw you two sleeping on the couch together."

" _Oh,_ " Marik said, a blush starting to spread across his face. "Well, that doesn't mean-"

"There's no reason to be embarrassed about it," Ryou said. "Why didn't you just tell me? Did you think I'd care?"

"No, I just- I don't normally talk about this kind of thing to anyone because...well, nobody really knows that I...you know, like guys."

"Um," said Ryou.

"What?" asked Marik.

Ryou averted his gaze. "Nothing."

"Come on, just tell me," said Marik.

"I kind of already knew," Ryou finally admitted. "For quite a while now."

"What? Since when?"

"Since you first met Bakura, pretty much."

"Seriously? _How_?" asked Marik.

"Well, you know-" Ryou started. He nearly said something about the way Marik had always acted toward Bakura, but thought better of it at the last second. Bringing up whatever Marik had with Bakura again might be pushing things too far.

"What?" Marik prodded.

Ryou tried to think of something else to say. "Um...well...I really don't mean to be stereotypical...but honestly, Marik...I've never in my life seen a straight man wear a lavender belly shirt."

"Oh," Marik said again, his blush deepening. He was suddenly thankful that he hadn't worn that thing in three years.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to make you feel awkward. I know it's none of my business," said Ryou quickly. "I just brought it up because- it's just- I just think you'd be happier if you were a little more honest with people, Marik."

"Now you sound like Bakura," Marik said, letting out a slightly exasperated sigh.

Ryou smiled. "Would it be weird if I took that as a compliment?"

"Yeah, kind of," Marik said, but now he couldn't help smiling too.

With that, the tension between them seemed to dissipate, and Ryou took the opportunity to change the subject. "Anyway, like I said, I really enjoyed visiting. Please keep in touch. Call me anytime. I'd love to hear from you."

Marik nodded. "I will."

Marik shifted on his feet for a moment, feeling something else was needed. He wasn't used to hugging people at all, but a mere handshake seemed a little too cool and formal, after everything Ryou had done to help them. Finally, he leaned in and gave Ryou a quick hug, which Ryou returned.

"Well, I hope you have a good flight home," Marik said. Then he turned toward the living room. "Bakura, Ryou's about to leave! Get your ass in here and say goodbye to him!"

A few moments later, Bakura shuffled into the kitchen. "Bye, Ryou."

Marik elbowed Bakura. "Gods, you can do better than that. You fucking lived inside him. The least you can do is give him a proper goodbye."

Bakura rolled his eyes. Marik took that as his cue to leave the room- it would probably be easier for Bakura to say his goodbyes to Ryou if Marik wasn't standing there hovering over them. So Marik gave Ryou a final promise that he'd call him soon, and then headed off to the living room.

"Well," Bakura finally said. "I guess I should thank you."

Ryou smiled. "No problem. And remember, I meant what I said about you being welcome to visit me anytime."

Bakura shrugged. "Maybe I will." After a pause, he hesitantly added, "I- I guess it's not so bad hanging out with you."

Ryou beamed at him, and just then, a car horn sounded outside. Presumably, it was Ryou's cab arriving.

"Well, see you-" Bakura started.

Without warning, Ryou leapt into Bakura's arms and gave him a fierce hug. "I'm really glad you came back, Bakura."

Bakura was so startled he stumbled backward a bit, but then, tentatively, he reached around and patted Ryou awkwardly on the back. "Yeah, sure," he said.

Suddenly, Ryou leaned in toward Bakura's ear and whispered, "Just tell him, Bakura."

Bakura's body immediately went rigid. "I don't know what you're talking about," he said stiffly.

Ryou finally let go and stepped back. "I think you do," he said. The horn of the cab blared again. "I have to be going. Think about what I said."

Ryou didn't say another word, just picked up his suitcases and exited the apartment. Bakura stood there for a moment, feeling a bit stunned. Then he turned at the sound of Marik coming back into the kitchen.

"I think I'm really going to miss him," Marik said thoughtfully. "We should call him sometime soon. I told him I'd keep in touch."

Bakura shrugged. "Sure, I guess we can do that."

"Though, one good thing about him being gone," Marik said. He hesitated. "I kind of want to..."

Bakura raised an eyebrow. "Bet?"

"Yeah," Marik said, a little sheepishly. "It's kind of been a while."

"If you really want to," said Bakura. He was obviously trying to sound nonchalant, but from the look in his eyes, Marik thought he was as eager to bet again as he was.

"Now?" asked Marik.

"Alright," said Bakura.

With that, the two grabbed their decks from the cabinet and sat down at the table.

Once their decks were shuffled and their hands dealt, Marik asked, "Loser gets fucked, I assume?"

"Yeah, but let's make it a little more interesting," Bakura said. "Winner gets to choose the position."

Marik shrugged. "Alright, I see no problem with that."

They picked up their cards and started the game. It was fairly even between them for a while, and either the game seemed to drag on, or they were both too anxious to get started with the bet. Half an hour later, Bakura glanced up at Marik, smirking.

"Marik, do you know what I'm going to do to you if I win?"

Marik looked at him warily. "What?"

"Do you remember what you said to me the first time I fucked you?" Bakura asked. "You said you didn't want to be fucked from behind like a dog. If I win, that's what I'm going to do to you. I'm going to have you down on your hands and knees."

"Oh, you bastard!" Marik cried, blood rushing to his cheeks, making his face red with anger.

Bakura smirked at him. "Your fault for agreeing to the bet."

Marik furiously grabbed his next card, aiming to prove Bakura wrong. In his next turn, he managed to knock out 500 of Bakura's life points with Gravekeeper's Assailant, but they still had a long way to go before the end of the game. Bakura was just barely in the lead at 5,100 while Marik was at 4,800 life points.

A dozen turns later, they were still neck and neck, and Bakura had just managed to destroy Marik's powered-up Hayabusa Knight by using Snipe Hunter's special ability. He had rolled a two using a six-sided die, which allowed him to destroy a card on the field while discarding one of his own.

Marik glanced at Bakura angrily, but said nothing. He needed to find a strategy to beat Bakura, and avoid getting riled up.

"I really don't know why you even agreed to this bet," Bakura said.

"What do you mean?"

"Well, if you get to choose the position, it doesn't really make a difference to me. You've already had me on my hands and knees. I don't mind that position," said Bakura. "I mean, of course I'd rather be the one fucking you, but if I have to get fucked, I really couldn't care less about you doing it from behind."

Marik set a card face down, glaring at Bakura all the while.

"So, if you win, there's not really much in it for you," Bakura continued, smiling maliciously. "But if I win, I get to completely humiliate you. So it was kind of dumb of you to take the bet."

Marik gripped his cards tighter. "My mistake, I guess," he said through gritted teeth, and Bakura smirked.

A few turns later, Marik had finally figured out his strategy. They were close to the end now, and Marik had the slight advantage of 600 life points while Bakura had 400. Marik had the fiend monster Abaki on the field, which had the ability to inflict 500 damage to both players when it was destroyed.

"Well, say goodbye to the rest of your life points," Marik said, sending his Abaki to the graveyard, and effectively wiping out Bakura’s life points.

"Damn it," said Bakura, throwing his cards down. "Well, might as well get this over with."

Bakura was already up and heading toward the bedroom, so Marik followed. As soon as they got inside, they both began undressing.

"Well," Bakura said thoughtfully as he stripped off his shirt, "I guess I shouldn't be too upset about losing. Like I said, there's not much you can really do to me by choosing a position."

An evil smile began to spread over Marik's face. "Oh, Bakura, that's where you're wrong."

Bakura looked up sharply. "What do you mean?"

"Lie down on your back," Marik said. "You're going to watch me while I fuck you. You're going to be looking at me when I take you."

All the color drained out of Bakura's face, his eyes going wide. "Oh, you asshole."

Marik smirked. Judging by Bakura's reaction, his guess that this position would be the most intimidating for Bakura was obviously correct.

"You have only yourself to blame," Marik said, smiling. "This bet was your idea."

"Fuck," Bakura said to himself under his breath. He couldn't even argue with that.

As Bakura finished undressing, he looked down, and around, and at anything but Marik. But once they were both naked, he had no choice but to get on the bed, lying on his back as Marik had instructed.

Marik climbed on top of him, straddling him. He reached to grab the bottle of lube with one hand, his other hand resting on Bakura's thigh for support. He couldn't help but notice how tense Bakura's leg felt under his palm- his muscles were as hard as stone. Looking more closely, he could see that Bakura's entire body had stiffened, almost as if he were waiting for a blow. It seemed the only part of him that wasn't rigid was his cock.

"Well, it's going to hurt if you can't relax," Marik said. Bakura just glared at him.

Marik sighed and squeezed some lube onto his fingers. Bakura expected Marik to begin preparing him, but instead, his hand gripped Bakura's cock.

"What are you doing?" Bakura demanded.

"Getting you turned on," Marik said. "I'm not even going to be able to get in if you're this tense."

Bakura growled low in his throat, but didn't protest Marik's ministrations. He knew Marik was right, and besides, he didn't really want to be ripped apart when Marik finally started.

Normally, Bakura would be hard the instant Marik touched him, but that wasn't the case this time. Still, Marik's hand was slippery and wet and squeezing in all the right places and his thumb kept brushing over his sensitive tip and stroking along the ridge, and eventually the sheer physical sensation was irresistible and Bakura stiffened in Marik's hand.

Marik nodded to himself, letting go of Bakura and squeezing more lube into his hand. Then he slid a single finger inside, going a little more slowly than usual.

"Relax," Marik said.

Bakura only shot him an icy look, but when Marik added a second finger and found the right spot inside of him, Bakura couldn't help gasping in pleasure.

"I h-hate when you do that."

"If this is an alternate universe where 'hate' means 'love,' then yes, you do," Marik smirked.

Bakura tried to look annoyed, but Marik's fingers kept brushing over that little bump in just the right way, not so fast as to desensitize or become painful, but fast enough that Bakura could never catch his breath between the jolts of pleasure that shot through his body and seemed to settle right between his legs, and soon his eyes were closed and his lips parted as his breath came faster.

Marik added a third finger, and Bakura couldn't contain a groan at being stretched even further, instinctively bending his knees to give Marik more access.

"I think you're ready," Marik smiled.

Bakura opened his eyes only halfway and nodded his assent.

As Marik coated himself with the lube, he couldn't help staring, loving the sight of Bakura all spread open and ready for him. Once he'd gotten his cock sufficiently slippery, he got into position, leaning over Bakura and beginning to press forward. But as soon as the tip of his erection touched Bakura's hole, Bakura's eyes opened all the way, and some of the nervousness came back to his features.

"It's alright," Marik said, trying to make his voice sound soothing. "I'm going to make this good for you."

"Just get on it with it, you brat."

Marik sighed and began to push in, going as slowly as he possibly could. Bakura still looked a little apprehensive, but Marik saw no pain on his face, and Bakura didn't protest, so Marik continued until he was as far as he could go. Then he waited, not moving, giving Bakura extra time to adjust.

Eventually, he couldn't wait any longer, the urge to move inside the tight heat of Bakura's hole just too great. So he started, but he forced himself to keep his thrusts slow at first. Then he began to adjust his angle, and it took him a little longer than usual to find the right place in this unfamiliar position, but eventually Bakura's sharp intake of breath let him know he'd gotten it right.

As Marik began to speed up a little, hitting the spot every time, he reached up to tilt Bakura's face toward him. "Look at me," he said.

Bakura did, and Marik saw his features, his eyes narrowed but his lips parted as quick little pants escaped them, as if Bakura was having an internal war between annoyance and pleasure. Marik figured he probably was.

As he started to go a little faster, Marik lowered his body in order to get his arms into a less stressful position. He thrust in harder, his body now pressed fully against Bakura's, and Bakura made a sound that was almost a squeak, as if he'd tried to contain the noise and failed.

It took Marik a moment to understand, but then he realized what he'd done and pressed their bodies together even harder, drawing a strangled cry from Bakura that confirmed Marik's notion: Bakura's cock was still slick with lube, and Marik's body was sliding against it over and over with every movement, pushing against it and creating a pleasurable friction for Bakura.

So Marik kept on in that way, and soon Bakura's body began to tremble as the sensations overwhelmed him, being stretched and filled while Marik's stomach incessantly rubbed up and down his slick erection.

"This feels good, doesn't it?" Marik asked, managing to sound smug despite his own pleasure at being enveloped by Bakura.

"N-no..." Bakura could barely speak.

"No?"

And suddenly Marik decreased his speed, dragging his body slowly over Bakura's and causing Bakura to take in a shaky breath. He did it again, and Bakura squirmed underneath him, and then he did it again, and again, until Bakura unwittingly whimpered with need.

"Faster?" asked Marik quietly.

At first, Bakura didn't answer, but finally he nodded, a blush spreading over his cheeks. At that, Marik immediately went harder and faster, going as deep as possible now, and he could tell that Bakura was quickly beginning to lose control, feeling Bakura's erection throb between their bodies with every movement.

"You're going to come while I fuck you, without me even touching you," Marik whispered, smiling.

Bakura screwed up his eyes and shook his head violently in negation, and Marik just laughed and thrust again, making Bakura's eyes pop open as he sucked in breath. Marik continued his movements, driving in and out and pressing their bodies as close together as possible, his stomach sliding along Bakura's erection again and again, and soon Bakura's entire body was quivering uncontrollably, as if he was trying intensely to hold back.

Marik loved seeing him like this, his eyes half-lidded and clouded with lust, his body trembling as he was completely overwhelmed by pleasure, all because of what Marik was doing to him. It turned Marik on even more to see how Bakura was obviously fighting for control of himself, trying desperately not to come. Marik knew how humiliating it would be for Bakura if Marik made him come like this, with Marik inside him, looking right at him, and not even directly touching him- and he knew it was the _good_ kind of humiliation, the kind that came from the giving up of control that Bakura would never admit how much he enjoyed and craved, something he wanted from Marik and only from Marik, and that thought seemed to go straight to Marik's cock, as well as give him a strange fluttery feeling in his chest that he tried to disregard.

After a particularly hard thrust, Bakura's body shook a little harder, and he bit his lip to hold back a moan as he unwillingly raised his hips towards Marik a tiny bit, obviously wanting him deeper, and his actions made Marik's breath hitch.

"Gods, you're so close," Marik whispered, almost in awe at how completely undone Bakura was becoming, and how near to the brink he was.

"N-no I'm n-not," Bakura managed to get out, and then Marik thrust again and Bakura cried out and unthinkingly grabbed onto Marik's hips, digging in his fingernails hard enough to draw blood.

Marik leaned down and nipped gently at Bakura's neck, feeling every inch of Bakura's flesh tremble underneath him, and hearing the tiny sounds of pleasure that Bakura was unable to hold back.

"Bakura, let go," he whispered. "Let yourself go...I _want_ to give you pleasure."

Marik felt a shiver run through Bakura, his body quivering harder than ever. He lifted his head up and looked at Bakura's face, one hand coming up to brush his hair back. Bakura was panting hard, his mouth open, his cheeks flushed. Marik was getting breathless himself, Bakura's tightness gripping him and making every movement almost unbearably pleasurable, but he managed to say, "I did this because...because I wanted to look at you...to see your face...to see you when you come with me inside you..."

At Marik's words, Bakura moaned softly, another shudder wracking his body. "Oh...oh, gods, Marik..."

Suddenly, Bakura's hands were on the back of Marik's head, tangled in his hair, pulling him down, and Marik's lips met Bakura's open mouth just as he felt the first spasms of Bakura's orgasm and the warm liquid beginning to spread between them. Marik parted his lips, and Bakura moaned into his mouth, the sound sending vibrations throughout Marik's body as Bakura arched into him, losing himself in the throes of what was obviously an incredibly intense climax. That sent Marik over the edge too, and the vibrations of his own moans mingled with Bakura's as he began to come inside him. Then Bakura's tongue slid into his mouth, and Marik responded in kind, exploring, really tasting him for the first time. Their tongues slipped around each other as Bakura's orgasm finally finished, and Marik pressed his face in closer as his own orgasm neared its end.

Suddenly, Bakura's hands were gone from Marik's head, and were on his shoulders instead, and then Bakura shoved him hard, separating their bodies and forcing Marik to roll off of him.

Marik was dazed for a moment, trying to process what had just happened. Bakura only lay there, breathing heavily and trying to recover. Before Marik could think of anything to do or say, Bakura got up and started putting on his clothes. Marik remained silent as Bakura left the room without a word.


	26. Chapter 26

Bakura had eventually come to bed the night before, but he'd slept all the way on the very edge of his side, putting as much distance as possible between himself and Marik. When Marik woke up the next morning, Bakura was already up, preparing breakfast for himself in the kitchen.

When Marik came out into the kitchen, he said good morning to Bakura, but Bakura only made a "hmph" sound in response and then turned back to the stove. Marik decided not to prod, and set about making his own breakfast. Eventually, they sat down across from each other to eat, but Bakura remained terse and distant throughout the meal. Whether it was because Bakura still felt awkward about what had happened the previous night, or because he was still upset about having to give up the Ring, or a combination of both, Marik couldn't say. Either way, Marik felt the best thing to do was to just get out of the house for a while and give Bakura some time.

It was Saturday, so he had no particular place to be, but he figured he was about due for a visit to Rishid and Ishizu. They didn't even know yet that Marik had all the tokens he needed for the tournament, and would therefore definitely be competing in the finals in two weeks. Marik figured they'd be happy to hear about it.

So, once breakfast was done and Marik had thrown their dishes in the sink, he said to Bakura, "Well, it's been a while since I've visited my brother and sister. I'm going to get a shower and then go over there. I'll be back this evening at the latest."

Bakura only grunted in response.

The visit was a good chance for Marik to catch up with his siblings. Ishizu made a great home-cooked _warah enab_ , and the moment Marik walked into their apartment, the scent of carrots and basmati brown rice engulfed him. They sat at the kitchen table, eating the grape leaf-clad meal, and caught up.

"I have some great news," Marik started, and both Rishid and Ishizu's eyes were upon him. "I've managed to collect enough tokens to participate in the finals."

"That's wonderful!" Ishizu beamed.

"Well done, Marik," Rishid said, giving him an appraising look.

Marik smiled. "I think I have a good chance at winning this tournament. I've been practicing quite a bit."

He left out the part where his practicing included betting on card games for sex. And the fact that he hadn't gotten any of the tokens by legal means.

"If I'm not mistaken, the finals start in exactly two weeks, on a Saturday," Ishizu said. "And Sunday will be the day the top two finalists compete for the championship title."

Marik nodded. So he would definitely be competing in the tournament on Saturday. He just had to make sure he was good enough to make it to Sunday.

After the meal, the three spent the rest of the afternoon chatting and catching up on more frivolous things.

When Marik got home, Bakura did seem a bit calmer. It was around dinner time, so Marik cooked a meal for both of them, and they chatted easily as they ate. Once they were done and Marik had washed up the dishes, Marik headed off to the living room, and Bakura automatically followed.

Marik was in the mood to play a game, but he was getting a little tired of Duel Monsters, and besides, he wasn't quite sure that Bakura would be open to betting at the moment. So instead, he suggested they play a video game. Bakura wasn't too familiar with video games, but he got into it quickly, and only griped a little when Marik beat him in the end.

After the video games, Bakura did feel more good-natured. But when they got into bed that night, he still edged toward one side of the bed, as he had the previous night. There was a strange, suffocating feeling in his chest. Because he wanted to lie closer to Marik, but couldn't allow himself.

Suddenly, he felt the bed shift and heard the covers rustle. When Bakura turned to look in the soft glow of the nightlight, he saw that Marik had curled up closer to him.

"Marik?" Bakura asked.

Marik peered at him with one eye open, edging even closer until Bakura's back was flush against Marik's front. There was nothing sexual about the gesture, though. Marik's arms wrapped loosely around Bakura's waist, and he pressed his face into Bakura's hair.

"Something wrong?" Marik asked.

But Bakura already knew what Marik was doing. He was trying to diffuse the awkwardness that had developed between them last night. It would be very much in Bakura's nature to disentangle himself from Marik's arms and put some distance between them, but he couldn't do it. Marik's breath was hot against his neck, and his body was wrapped so warmly around Bakura's, that it felt wrong to break this.

Instead, Bakura twisted around in Marik's arms until they were face to face, and he could examine each sand-colored hair strand and each silt-colored fleck in his irises. Marik wrapped his arms tighter around Bakura, and at that touch, something dropped to the pit of Bakura's stomach. That feeling of breathlessness returned, and his face flushed.

He pulled Marik's face toward him and pressed their lips together.

Just once.

It was a tight-lipped kiss that made Bakura yearn for more, to entangle himself in this comfort and warmth that was purely Marik, but he stopped himself. Abruptly, he released Marik's face and pulled back. Marik gave him a perplexed look, but Bakura wasn't about to explain his actions to him.

Instead, Bakura drew Marik toward himself, interweaving their arms and legs together, and closed his eyes as if to go to sleep.

But even long after Marik's breath had evened out, and the boy was fast asleep, Bakura's gaze still swept over Marik's features. He wanted to lose himself in this- whatever _this_ was- but he needed to guard himself. Shortly, the tournament would come to an end, and Bakura had promised to leave.

And he was not backing down on that promise.

 

* * *

 

The next morning, Bakura awoke to find himself in a tangle of blankets, but Marik was nowhere nearby.

He stepped into the kitchen and found him already setting breakfast on the table.

"Morning," Marik said, looking cheerful.

Bakura merely nodded and dug into the food appreciatively.

"I was thinking," Marik started, digging into his own plate. "I need to get more practice before the tournament finals start, and I only have two weeks left. Wanna play a card game after breakfast?"

"Sure."

Marik hesitated for a moment. "Wanna bet?"

Bakura smirked. "Yeah, let's do the usual."

After clearing out the dishes, they set up their card decks and began the game. As with all their games, they both started out strong, but it was clear that halfway through the duel, Marik had gotten the upper hand. Bakura was looking down a bleak field with only one monster on his side, and three about to obliterate a good chunk of his life points, when they suddenly heard the front door swing open.

"What-" Bakura started, looking up.

Both immediately jumped up from the kitchen table, but before Bakura could run into Marik's bedroom, Ishizu walked into the kitchen.

"Oh, Marik, I didn't know you had company-" Ishizu started. She cut her sentence off as she saw the shocked, guilty looks on the faces of both Marik and the one standing across from him at the table- they looked as though they'd been caught at something, though they weren't doing anything wrong that Ishizu could see. Then she noticed that the white haired one had sharp facial features, and didn't look quite like- she stepped back and gave a little gasp. "Marik, that's- that's not Ryou, is it?"

Marik sighed. There was no point in denying it. Ishizu knew that Ryou had already gone home, and it was pretty clear who Bakura was. "No. It's Bakura," he admitted. "The Spirit of the Ring. In his own body now."

Ishizu looked like her eyes were about to pop out of her head. "How?" was all she could think to ask.

Marik shrugged and tried to think quickly. He obviously couldn't admit that he'd stolen the Ring from the dig site months ago and brought Bakura back with a spell. "Well, we don't really know," he finally said. "He just kind of turned up right after I found the Ring a few days ago. I guess unearthing it brought him back somehow."

"But why is he _here_?" Ishizu asked helplessly. Her head was swimming.

"He didn't really have anyplace else to go," Marik said. "He's never really had any friends besides me."

"And you're- you're letting him stay here?" asked Ishizu. She lowered her voice. "Marik, he's- he's a murderer."

"So am I," Marik pointed out. "But he's not like that anymore. He was seeking vengeance before, but that's all done now. He truly just wants to live a normal life, now that he has the chance."

"Well," Bakura cut in, "if you two are going to talk about me like I'm not here, I guess I might as well not be." With that, he stalked back to the bedroom and slammed the door.

Ishizu winced. "I'm sorry I- I seem to have offended your...friend."

Marik waved it off. "Don't worry about it, Sister. He's easily offended."

Ishizu paused for a moment, looking as if she was trying to decide whether she should speak or not. Finally, she said, "I trust you, Marik. If you say he's changed, then I believe you. And it's nice that you're trying to help him, but..."

"But what?"

"Well, have you thought of how this would look for you?" asked Ishizu. "Associating with someone with the...reputation that Bakura has? You've come so far in these last few months, gaining the respect and admiration of the people at the museum...if they found out about this..."

"How would they find out?" asked Marik. "Are _you_ going to tell them?"

"Of course not!" Ishizu said, looking affronted. "But this isn't the sort of thing you can keep secret forever. Don't you think someone besides myself will eventually see him?"

"It isn't forever," Marik assured her. "He's just staying here for a little bit, while he figures out what to do next. And he's been helping me practice for the tournament. As soon as the tournament is over, he'll be moving on."

Ishizu nodded solemnly with acceptance. "Alright, Marik. I truly hope this doesn't turn out badly for you."

"Don't worry, Sister," Marik said. "By the way...what were you rushing over here to tell me?"

"Well, it hardly seems so important now," Ishizu said, letting out a nervous laugh. "But I just wanted to tell you that the officials called me today and informed me that they've decided to close the museum during the weekend of the tournament finals. We have shortened hours on the weekend anyway, and many of the officials are interested in attending the tournament, so they've decided that after closing on Friday evening, we won't open up again until Monday morning."

"Ah," said Marik, not really understanding her point. "That's interesting."

"You see, Marik, many of the officials will be attending the tournament finals, so they'll see you competing. I thought it would be good for you."

"Oh!" said Marik, understanding lighting his face. "Well, that's great news. I hope to make them proud."

"I'm sure you will," said Ishizu. "And I'm proud of you for making it into the finals. It's a real accomplishment."

"Thank you, Sister." Marik felt a twinge of guilt. After all, he hadn't done anything at all to get into the finals, aside from sit back and let Bakura cheat for him by stealing tokens.

There was a moment of awkward silence.

"Well," Ishizu finally said, "I feel I should be going."

"Well, thank you for stopping by and letting me know about this, Sister," said Marik.

Ishizu nodded, and Marik walked her to the door. Soon after the door clicked closed, Bakura came back out of the bedroom.

"Well, I guess it's a good thing I'm leaving after the tournament," Bakura said with no preamble. "Your sister trusts you, but she's not stupid. As soon as the Ring goes missing, she's going to suspect it was me."

Marik nodded numbly and said nothing, letting this information sink in.

"And I bet she'd turn me in right away, too," Bakura continued. "She'd probably think she was saving you from a bad influence and protecting your reputation by getting me away from you."

"Maybe," Marik said. "But still, I'm sure she wouldn't divulge my involvement with you to anyone. She wouldn't ruin my reputation like that."

"And that's all that matters," said Bakura bitterly. After a pause, he said, "Of course, this new information does make our plan more complicated."

Marik looked up sharply. "What are you talking about?"

"Why, your precious reputation, of course," Bakura said. "You remember our plan for your alibi, don't you? I was going to steal the Ring while you were at the finals. If the museum was open on that day as usual, and I stole the Ring while the officials were there, they'd realize it was missing fairly quickly, so they'd have a pretty solid time frame for when it was stolen, and they'd know you were at the tournament during that time."

"But since the museum will be closed all weekend..." Marik said, slowly realizing.

"Yeah," said Bakura. "They probably won't even know the Ring is missing until Monday morning. So as far as they'll know, the Ring could have been stolen any time between Friday evening and Monday morning. But you'll only be at the tournament during the day on Saturday and Sunday. You won't have an alibi for every moment of the weekend."

Marik thought for a moment. "Well...what if I stayed the weekend with Rishid and Ishizu? Made sure I was with them every minute?"

"Oh, because _that_ won't look suspicious," Bakura said, rolling his eyes. "You _never_ stay the weekend with them. Then, suddenly, on the one weekend you stay with them, the Ring goes missing? And Ishizu knows I'm here, and that I'm staying with you? It will look like exactly what it is- you trying to establish an alibi. Everyone will think you were in on the theft."

"Damn it," said Marik. For a moment he was silent, deep in thought. Finally, he said, "Well, okay, I know you've been planning to leave as soon as the tournament is over, but what if you stayed just a little longer? What if you stayed until the dig is finished and Yugi goes home? Then you could steal the Ring and switch it with another fake, and they wouldn't even know the real Ring is gone, and there would be no one around to figure out it was a fake."

Bakura seemed to consider this for a moment, but then shook his head. "Someone would figure it out eventually. Probably Yugi. You think he'll never come back here and visit the museum? Since the items are apparently so _important_ to him, I'm sure he'll be around sometimes."

"But by the time they figure it out..."

"By the time they figure it out, it will leave an even wider window of time for when the Ring could have been stolen," said Bakura. "Your alibi would be _completely_ shot. Ryou's, too, probably. After all, he was here for almost a whole day after you gave the real Ring to the officials. For all they know, that could have been the day he stole the Ring back and replaced it with a fake. And they'll probably consider that, since they know he's given them a fake before."

"Fuck," said Marik. "I wouldn't want to drag Ryou back into this."

"You'd look highly suspicious, too," Bakura said. "Considering the fact that everyone knows you were staying with the guy who already gave them a fake once before, and now Ishizu knows that I'm here."

"Well, do _you_ have any ideas?" Marik asked. "You seem to be really good at shooting down whatever I come up with, but I don't see you offering anything yourself."

"You're lucky I'm even willing to help you at all," Bakura snarled. "Your damned reputation really isn't my problem. I've already given up the Ring so that you and Ryou don't get in trouble. I've done enough."

Marik heaved a sigh and ran his hands through his hair in frustration. "Come on, Bakura. I know you think it's stupid that I'm trying to get my reputation back, but do you really want to see me thrown in jail for a crime you committed? Or get Ryou back into trouble, after all he's done for us?"

"Not particularly," said Bakura. "So if you come up with a workable plan, let me know, and I'll go along with it. But that's as far as it goes. All I care about is getting the Ring back and safely getting the hell out of here with it. The Ring is my top priority, just like your reputation is _your_ top priority. So I'm sure you can relate."

Marik dropped his head into his hands, trying to keep his anger at bay. He needed to think. For a while, there was silence as Marik considered things. Eventually, he said, "Okay, okay. How about this? I know you can easily avoid the security cameras, but what if you don't? What if you let yourself be seen stealing-"

"Oh, fuck you, Marik!" Bakura cut him off. "Do you really think I want the world having video evidence that I'm back, and that I stole the Ring? Seriously, I should just leave you to hang. The fact that the museum will be closed actually makes my job easier, if I'm not worried about your alibi. Nobody will be there, so I won't have to worry about avoiding any of the workers, and since the theft won't be discovered for a while, it'll give me extra time to get out of here before they can tell Yugi about the theft and have him tell them whether the Ring is still in the area."

"No, no, wait, I wasn't saying that," Marik said. "You don't have to show your face at all. You can wear a hood or whatever. The important thing is just the camera seeing _someone_ stealing the Ring. There will be a timestamp, so they'll know the exact time it was stolen, so it will be easy for anyone to create an alibi for that time. And they won't go through all the security footage until Monday when they find out the Ring is gone, so you'll still have your head start on getting away from here, and out of Yugi's range."

Bakura crossed his arms over his chest and gave Marik an irritable look. Finally, he said, "Alright. I guess I see no problem with that."

Marik calmed slightly. "So, I guess everything is going to work out."

"Yeah. Everything's just _perfect_."

Marik winced at Bakura's sarcastic tone. "I'll try to stick up for you with Ishizu," he offered. "I'll tell her you left before the tournament even started because you were done helping me practice and that you couldn't have committed the theft. Maybe I'll even be able to convince her not to tell everyone you're back."

"Like I said, it's a good thing I'm leaving after this tournament," Bakura said. "At least you'll be able to honestly tell Ishizu that I'm gone and that you have no idea where I am. And Yugi will be able to confirm that the Ring is nowhere in the area, so she'll know you're telling the truth."

"Yeah," said Marik dully. Then he was quiet for a while as he absorbed everything. It was a solid plan- it would keep all three of them safe. But it meant that Bakura could definitely never set foot in Luxor again. Especially if Ishizu suspected him, which she would- Bakura would truly need to completely disappear. Bakura had said that even Marik wouldn't know where he was. Marik supposed that made sense- as long as Marik was living here, working at the museum, with Ishizu knowing that Bakura was back, any contact he had with Bakura might be risky for both of them. But...still.

"You don't seem too happy," Bakura said, cutting into Marik's thoughts. "Why is that? You've known I was leaving as soon as the tournament was done for quite a while. Nothing's changed."

"I'm not-" Marik faltered. "I'm not upset about you leaving."

"Of course you're not," said Bakura, a bitter edge to his voice. "You should be overjoyed, then. Not sitting there looking like you're moping. After all, you figured out a way to protect your precious reputation, and soon, you'll never again have to worry about your dealings with me threatening your public image, since I'll be out of your life forever."

"Bakura, please stop," said Marik, his fingers going to his temples as a feeling of unfocused distress began to overwhelm him. This entire conversation was going downhill fast. Not that it had been a particularly pleasant conversation to begin with. Eventually, Marik managed to clear his mind, and he raised his head and looked Bakura in the eyes. "There's no reason to snap at me. If I remember correctly, you leaving here was _your_ idea in the first place. You knew this was coming as much as I did."

"I know, I just didn't think you'd let-" Bakura suddenly cut himself off, and Marik gave him a sharp look of surprise.

"Didn't think I'd what?" Marik asked.

"Didn't think you'd let yourself become such an asshole about it," Bakura finished vehemently. "Anyway, I'm done with this. Can you please leave and go do something else? I want to watch TV. By myself. How long has it been since you bothered with your school work, anyway?"

"Fine," said Marik, suddenly feeling very tired in both body and spirit. He didn't want to argue anymore. "Whatever you want. I guess I do have some homework I could be doing."

Marik walked away. They didn't speak to each other for the rest of the day. That night, Bakura chose to bed down on the couch, so the two slept in separate rooms for the first time in a very long while.


	27. Chapter 27

Bakura's attitude didn't improve over the next week. He'd continued sleeping on the couch every night, and he frequently shot Marik icy glares at seemingly random moments. He and Marik hardly spoke anymore. At first, Marik had tried to open up conversations. Once, he'd mentioned to Bakura that the museum was calling in Pegasus to find the Eye. Bakura had only snapped, "Great, _another_ one of my favorite people showing up here," and after that, Marik had given up. Soon, he found himself snapping back at Bakura, and then, as the week wore on, just trying to avoid him. He kept himself busy with work during the day, and in the evenings, he tried to catch up on his school work.

That, at least, was one good thing about this situation- with everything that had been going on, he'd really been neglecting his classes. Now that he was so close to his goal, and had a real chance of getting promoted, it wouldn't look good at all if he failed out of his museum studies program.

However, by the time Friday rolled around, Marik was completely caught up on his homework, so once he got off work for the day, he was totally out of things to do, and feeling very bored. He really didn't want to go home and deal with Bakura's cold looks, so instead, he decided to go visit Ishizu.

He hadn't spoken to Ishizu at all since she'd caught Bakura at his place, and he wondered how she was taking it, now that it had had a chance to sink in. She'd seemed calm enough by the end of the discussion, but still, it was obvious she didn't really approve of Bakura being around. She worried about what it could do to Marik's reputation if he was discovered, and even her last words on the subject- _I truly hope this doesn't turn out badly for you_ \- had made it seem as if she was sure it _would_ turn out badly. Marik hoped the fact that Bakura wouldn't be around much longer assuaged some of Ishizu's worry.

So, Marik headed off to go talk to Ishizu. However, when he got there, Izhizu wasn't home from work yet; only Rishid was there, sitting at the table and calmly drinking a cup of tea.

As soon as Marik came in, Rishid offered to make a second cup of tea for Marik. Marik always felt strange about Rishid serving him- it reminded him too much of how badly he'd treated Rishid in the past- but it seemed to make Rishid happy, and besides, Marik reasoned, he was a guest in their home, so it was only proper.

So Marik sat down at the table. Soon, Rishid had served Marik his tea, and then he sat down across from him.

"So, Marik, what's on your mind?" asked Rishid. He was always perceptive where Marik was concerned.

"Well, honestly, I came to talk to Ishizu about something," Marik admitted.

"Do you mind if I ask what about?"

Marik considered for only a moment before deciding to tell Rishid. Rishid was completely trustworthy, and he always supported anything Marik did. Actually, Marik wouldn't be too surprised if Ishizu had already told him. He didn't think she'd tell anyone else, but they both knew there would be no harm in telling Rishid.

"Well," Marik started, "do you remember Bakura?"

"Of course," said Rishid. "I'm told he saved my life when I was unconscious during the Battle City tournament."

"Yes- he did," Marik said. For some reason, he felt a twinge of guilt at that, and he tried to push it aside. "Well, anyway, he came back. When they started digging up the Millennium Items- well, it doesn't really matter how. He has his own body now, and he's been staying with me, and last weekend, Ishizu caught him at my place."

"Ah," said Rishid, and the complete lack of surprise in his tone made Marik think that Ishizu had, in fact, already told him. "How long has he been with you?"

"A while," said Marik, careful to be vague. He could lie to Ishizu, but he didn't want to outright lie to Rishid.

"So, how is it, having him around again?"

Marik looked shocked at the question. "Well, he hasn't been in a great mood lately," Marik said. "But mostly...it's been...nice. He's been helping me practice for the tournament. And we talk and play games and watch movies together...all that kind of stuff." Marik paused for a moment. "But he's _really_ terrible about helping out with any of the housework," he added with a laugh.

Rishid smiled at him, and there seemed to be something else underneath it.

"What?" asked Marik.

"Nothing," said Rishid. "You just seem happy when you talk about him. It's nice to see you happy for once."

"Well, it doesn't matter," Marik snapped. "He's leaving in about a week, and he won't be back. Ishizu's glad of it."

"And what do you think of it?"

Marik looked shocked again. "I-" he started. "Well, it's not like I'm _happy_ about it. But since it can't be changed, I just don't think about it." He paused again. " _At all_ ," he added firmly, in a tone that made it clear he considered the topic closed.

Just then, Ishizu swept through the door.

"Oh! Marik! I didn't know you'd be visiting," Ishizu said. "It's nice to see you."

"It's nice to see you as well," Marik said.

Ishizu immediately began bustling about, getting out pots and pans, presumably to start dinner. Marik supposed now was as good a time as any to test out how Ishizu was taking the fact that Bakura was back and living in his apartment.

"I was just telling Rishid about Bakura," Marik said. "We were discussing the fact that he'll be leaving soon."

Ishizu nodded. "Honestly, Marik, I was relieved when you told me that he won't be around much longer. I don't think this...association is good for you."

"Well, it will be over soon," said Marik. Suddenly, Marik remembered his promise to Bakura, to tell Ishizu that Bakura would be leaving the day before the tournament, so that she might possibly not be so suspicious of him when the Ring went missing. "In fact, he's leaving the day before the finals start. He'll be finished helping me practice by then, and he will have had enough time to work out other arrangements."

"Well," Ishizu said briskly, "I think that's for the best. Don't you agree, Marik?"

"Yes," Marik said stiffly. "He'll be leaving the country. You don't have to worry."

But Ishizu misread his tone.

"Oh, Marik, I know it might not seem like it sometimes, but I trust you to run your own life- I really do," she said. "And it really is kind that you're trying to help someone. I just worry, that's all- I can't help worrying about my little brother. I'll just feel better when he's out of your life for good. You've accomplished so much, I just don't want to see you do anything that could ruin that."

Marik gave her a tight smile. "I won't," he said. He took a sip of his tea. It was cold now. "In fact, I don't even know where Bakura's going. We- we won't be keeping in touch."

Ishizu turned from the pans now sizzling on the stove and smiled at him. "That's good, Marik. I know you're smart enough to realize that you can't remain connected to someone like him. Your position in society- it's improved vastly, because you're doing such a good job. I'm just glad you're keeping your mind on what's most important."

Marik stood up abruptly. Suddenly, he really didn't want to be having this conversation anymore.

"Well, I really ought to be going."

"Oh, Marik, won't you stay for dinner?" asked Ishizu. "It will be finished soon."

"No, I- I'm sorry," said Marik. "The tournament is coming up soon, and as I said, Bakura has been helping me practice, and he won't be around much longer, so I should really go and- do that."

He didn't actually think that Bakura would be in any mood to help him practice dueling. He just wanted an excuse to get out of there. Even Bakura's cold stares were better than this. He winced a little when he thought of how Bakura would act toward him when he got home, but he shook it off and tried to smile.

"It was nice visiting with you both," Marik said. "I'm sorry I can't stay longer. I'll see you soon, I'm sure."

Ishizu looked disappointed, but she nodded. "Alright, Marik. It was good to see you."

"Yes, it was good to see you," said Rishid. "And remember what your sister said- keep your mind on what's _really_ important."

At this last, Rishid gave Marik a pointed look, but Marik didn't bother to try to decipher it- he just headed out the door without another word.

After he started up his motorcycle and took off, he reflected briefly on his visit. He supposed it had technically gone well enough. He'd been right that Ishizu wasn't particularly happy about the situation with Bakura, but she would hold her peace as long as she knew he'd be gone soon. And Rishid- but he didn't want to think about that conversation. He supposed there were a lot of things lately that he didn't want to think about. Bakura had said that to him once- that he always just lived in the moment, never thinking about future consequences. But that was yet another thing that he didn't want to think about, so he just cleared his mind of all thoughts and concentrated on the exhilarating feeling of speed and the wind on his face as he rode down the streets of Luxor. In the end, he drove around for so long that it was night by the time he finally got home.

When he walked in the door, he saw that Bakura was in the living room. He heard the sound of the TV blaring, and he realized that Bakura was watching a movie- one Marik knew he'd already seen before. He supposed there wasn't really much for Bakura to do, stuck in the house all day, unable to go out often for fear of being recognized. He guessed it really was for the best that Bakura was leaving- it wasn't fair to keep him here like this.

But still. Still, he hated the way things had been lately between himself and Bakura. Bakura would only be here for about another week, and Marik didn't want to spend it like this, with the two of them alternately fighting and trying to ignore each other.

So, finally, he walked into the living room and placed himself directly between Bakura and the TV, his arms crossed over his chest and his feet slightly spread.

"Bakura."

"What." Bakura leaned to the side and craned his neck, trying to get a better view of the screen. "You're in my way."

"Bakura, look," Marik said, trying to control his feelings of frustration, "you've only got a week left here, and- and can we just _not_ spend it glaring and snapping at each other and with both of us trying to pretend the other doesn't exist?"

"You're in my way," Bakura repeated calmly.

"Damn it, Bakura!" Marik yelled. "I don't know _why_ you're so angry, but-"

Finally, Bakura raised his eyes to Marik, looking at him in wonderment. "You really don't, do you." It wasn't even a question.

"No, I don't!" Marik cried. "I know you think it's stupid that I'm trying to get respect from the people around here, and I know you have this idea in your head that I'm pretending to be someone I'm not, and I know you're upset that you had to give up the Ring, but you'll be getting the Ring back in about a week, and what I do with my life isn't going to affect you in any way after you leave, and we agreed a long time ago that this arrangement couldn't be permanent, so I really don't know why you're suddenly taking everything out on me!"

Bakura's expression suddenly changed, and he stared at Marik with a murderous glare.

"And that's another thing!" Marik said. "I could be wrong, but it seems like you get really fucking mad every time the subject of you leaving is brought up! And it doesn't make any sense, because it was _your_ idea to leave in the first place! You said our lives weren't compatible. You said someone would catch you here eventually- and they did! Ishizu caught you, and we're just lucky she didn't make a scene about it, but if it weren't for the fact that you're leaving soon, I'm not sure that would be the case! Neither one of us can afford for you to get caught here again. And you told me that back then, you told me that we'd be a detriment to each other as long as we were on different paths! I didn't think about that before, but once you explained it to me, I understood. Isn't that why you brought it up, to make me realize that you were going to leave sooner or later?"

"That's not why I brought it up," Bakura said. His arms were crossed over his chest, and he was looking downward now, unable to meet Marik's eyes.

"Then why did you bring it up?" Marik asked. "What was your reason?"

"Nothing," said Bakura, sounding almost hopeless. "You're right. That's why I brought it up."

"Then why the hell are you _acting_ this way?" Marik yelled. "There's nothing either of us can do about you leaving, so what's the point of being upset about it? What's the point of even _thinking_ about it?"

"You really don't think about it at all, do you," said Bakura flatly, looking stunned for the second time. Then his expression hardened. "You're right, I'm leaving no matter what, so why the fuck do you even care how I act?"

Marik balled up his fists and closed his eyes, frustration coursing through his body. "I don't know, I just-" But he didn't know how to finish the thought. He'd just felt so _far_ from Bakura lately, and he just wanted-

But he couldn't articulate it, couldn't explain what he wanted with words, so before he knew it, he was moving purposefully toward Bakura, climbing onto the couch, straddling him, and then, before he could even think about what he was doing, he grabbed Bakura's face in his hands and pushed their lips together, forcing his tongue into Bakura's mouth.

Bakura responded to the kiss automatically, his hands reflexively coming up to grip Marik's shoulders, and when Marik finally released him and pulled back, Bakura was staring at him with wide-eyed shock. Marik's look almost mirrored Bakura's, unable to believe what he'd just done.

But Bakura didn't yet have the presence of mind to push Marik away, so Marik quickly collected himself and took advantage of the situation, wrapping his arms around Bakura's shoulders and leaning in closer.

Marik took a deep breath, and waited a moment to make sure his voice would sound normal.

"It's late," Marik said. "You must be tired. The bed is more comfortable than the couch. Come lie down with me."

Bakura opened his mouth to respond, but before he could, Marik said quietly, "I haven't- haven't been sleeping so well without you."

Then Marik moved a little closer to Bakura, and without letting himself think about what he was doing, he leaned in and brushed a gentle kiss against Bakura's lips. Bakura gasped softly, and though his eyelids slid closed, they twitched and fluttered, as if he was trying to fight against something.

"Marik-" he said. He was almost breathless.

Marik tightened his arms around him. "Sleep with me," he whispered. "Please."

"Yes," Bakura sighed, his voice barely above a whisper. "Gods, Marik...I hate you."

Marik smiled and pulled Bakura up off the couch, leading him to the bedroom.

Moments later, they were lying in bed, their arms wound around each other, faces buried in each other's hair. Marik shifted against Bakura and sighed softly, and Bakura's heart almost stopped.

On impulse, Bakura slipped his hand under the back of Marik's shirt, sliding his palm gently over Marik's scars, for some reason just wanting to know that he was still allowed to touch him there. He began rubbing slow circles into Marik's back, and he felt a shiver run through Marik's body. Bakura pulled back a little to check Marik's face, to see if it had been a shiver of pleasure or discomfort. He got his answer when Marik leaned in and pressed a kiss to his lips, so soft and slow that it made Bakura's chest ache. Only moments after the kiss broke, Marik was already moving to kiss him again, and Bakura wanted it so much he couldn't breathe.

"Marik, stop," he said, his voice almost a sigh. "You have to stop, I can't-"

"Sorry," Marik said quickly, and as Bakura forced himself to pull away, he could see even in the dim light that Marik was embarrassed, maybe even afraid that he'd just broken the tentative peace between them and made things awkward again.

But Bakura couldn't feel bad for him. He knew that if he'd let Marik kiss him just one more time, he would have been completely lost to it, unable to stop himself. And he couldn't let that happen. This bodily proximity alone was probably a terrible idea, but he'd needed the closeness too badly to resist- kissing, though, was definitely much too far.

Besides, Marik had no reason to worry. Bakura didn't feel angry anymore. As he thought about it, he realized that now, he just felt resigned. Marik had made his choice- had made it a long time ago, actually- and Bakura certainly wasn't going to degrade himself by begging Marik to reconsider. It had probably been stupid of him to ask Marik in the first place. All those months ago, when he'd explained to Marik why he couldn't stay indefinitely with the way things were, he'd asked Marik point blank whether he'd choose him over his reputation, and what answer had he really thought Marik would give him? He couldn't expect Marik to give up his entire life and everything he'd been working toward for the past three years just because he'd shown up and spent a few months hanging around his apartment. And if Marik truly didn't see how Bakura felt about the whole situation- well, it didn't make a difference. After all, Bakura had no desire to stick around for someone who could so easily choose something so petty over him. Marik cared more about gaining a reputation based on lies than he did about Bakura, and if that's the way it was- but thinking about that caused a spark of anger to begin to grow inside Bakura again, and he didn't want that. Marik had a right to make his own decision, and besides, Bakura realized that feeling angry was entirely useless and unproductive. He hated to admit it to himself, but Marik was right- he would only be here for one more week, and there was no point in spending it ignoring each other or sniping at each other. He might as well just try to enjoy what time they had, because after this, he would never see Marik again, and none of the things he'd been so mad about would matter anymore.

So with that thought, he pulled Marik to him, intertwining their bodies as closely as possible, and just for that one moment, he allowed himself to enjoy Marik's nearness and warmth, and the feeling of falling asleep in his arms.


	28. Chapter 28

Breakfast the next morning passed mostly in silence, but Bakura seemed more thoughtful than mad, so Marik didn't let it concern him. Once they were done eating, Bakura headed to the living room, and Marik followed. Bakura flopped down on the couch and turned on the TV, starting up the same movie he'd been watching the night before.

Bakura glanced at Marik. "I didn't get to finish it last night," he explained.

Marik gave him a smile. He was glad that it was Saturday, and he didn't have anything particular he had to be doing. He'd had a stressful week, and welcomed the chance to relax a little.

"Mind if I watch it with you?" Marik asked.

Bakura shrugged. "It's your house."

Marik sat down next to him, close enough that their legs were just barely touching. Bakura's body stiffened briefly, but then seemed to relax. Neither one of them moved or said a word throughout the entire movie.

Then, just as the credits started, Marik fairly leaped across Bakura to grab the remote and shut off the TV.

"Marik, you _do_ realize that even if you turn off the movie before the credits, they _still_ all get killed on the zombie island, right?"

"No," Marik said firmly. "I'm in denial about that."

Bakura rolled his eyes.

"I'm _also_ in denial about Andy's death," Marik said.

Bakura couldn't help smiling a little. Marik loved watching the bloodiest, goriest horror movies they could find, and he never got scared, yet he could still manage to be such a kid about them sometimes.

"I guess Andy's death is pretty sad," Bakura finally conceded.

"It's awful!" said Marik. He looked thoughtful for a moment. "So, what do you think the saddest horror movie death ever is?"

Bakura shrugged. "Amanda, I guess."

"You _guess_?" Marik said, eyes widening. Almost unconsciously, he moved a little closer to Bakura as he spoke. "It's _definitely_ the saddest. I'd never cry at a movie, but I mean, if I _was_ the type to cry at movies, Amanda's death scene would definitely be the one thing I'd cry over."

Bakura gave him a sly smile. "Liar. I saw you start to tear up the last time you watched that."

"Did not!" yelled Marik, slapping Bakura lightly on the arm. "She's just...the best character ever!"

"She's a character who was abused as a kid, so she got all mad and decided to murder a bunch of random people in sadistic traps," Bakura said.

"Seems like a reasonable course of action to me," Marik said. Marik only managed to keep a straight face for a few seconds before his lips quirked into a smirk, and Bakura burst out laughing. Marik soon joined him.

By the time their laughter had died down, Marik had moved even closer to Bakura, and was resting a casual hand on his shoulder.

"So," said Marik, "top five favorite fictional female serial killers?"

Bakura unconsciously shifted his weight against Marik. "Well, I have to name Amanda, or you'll stab me."

"Right," said Marik. "Four more."

"Alright." Bakura thought for a moment. "Jennifer...Tiffany...Marie's mother...and...can I say Beth?"

"No, Beth only killed two people," Marik said. "That's not enough for her to be a serial killer. I specifically said female _serial_ killers."

"Alright, then you have to give me Alice," Bakura said. "She killed tons of non-zombie Umbrella employees."

"Yeah, Alice counts," Marik said. "Wow, I'm impressed. Of the six characters you just named, only _five_ could qualify as vengeance killers."

"Hey, what can I say? Tiffy's charming, even if she just kills for fun and not for vengeance."

Marik laughed and leaned further into Bakura. Bakura started to pull away a little, and suddenly, Marik's expression turned more serious.

"So...are you still mad?"

"I'm not mad," said Bakura.

He gave Marik a small, somewhat sad smile. He really didn't feel angry anymore; the previous night, he'd come to a kind of begrudging acceptance of how things had to be. Now, he was determined to just live in the moment and be with Marik while he could.

"You sure?" Marik asked, bringing him out of his thoughts. "You're really not mad anymore?"

Bakura smiled at Marik again, and this time, his smile seemed a little happier. He looked at Marik, noticing the way his blonde bangs were hanging over his wide, violet eyes. He looked...cute. His mouth was quirked up in a small smile and Bakura's gaze couldn't help but be drawn to his full lips. Bakura's smile slowly turned into a devilish smirk.

"Want me to prove it to you?" Bakura asked.

Before Marik could ask what he meant by that, Bakura leaned closer and placed his hand on the front of Marik's pants, lingering on the zipper. Immediately, Marik's breath caught and his eyes widened. They had had sex so many times, in so many ways, but for Marik, each moment still seemed like the first.

Marik imperceptibly nodded, indicating that he wanted Bakura to continue. Bakura got off the couch and slowly sank to his knees in front of Marik, his hands never leaving Marik's pants. He leisurely unzipped them, undid the button, and pulled them down Marik's thighs until his boxers were in full view. He sensed that Marik's breathing had quickened at that touch alone. Marik's cheeks were flushed and he seemed absolutely transfixed by Bakura's movements. When Bakura dragged the band of his boxers down, he found that Marik's dick was already hard, and he smirked, cupping the shaft and running his hands up and down several times.

Bakura watched Marik's reaction, and his own breath caught. Marik's hands were at his sides, digging into the couch cushions, his gaze still on Bakura. His eyes were wide, dilated, and his mouth ajar. When Bakura lowered his head, he kept his gaze on Marik, not breaking their eye contact, and slowly licked his cock at the tip. He squeezed the shaft below the head, carefully licking along the slit. Marik squirmed, thrusting upward slightly, as if he was impatient with Bakura's leisurely pace. His bright eyes smoldered, and his blond bangs again slid across his face, giving him an absolutely fiery look. Bakura's heart skipped a beat at the realization that he was the only thing currently in Marik's realm, the only thing he had eyes for, and it was exhilarating to capture that kind of attention.

When Marik thrust upward again, Bakura made a _tsk tsk tsk_ sound, and murmured against the tip, "If I'm not doing this as part of a bet, I'm going to be as slow as I want."

Marik tried to glare at him, but it seemed he was too turned on to really manage it. Bakura smirked, enjoying the leverage, and decided to play with his reactions. He ran his fingertips beneath the shaft, winding his tongue along the length slowly and giving little kisses to the tip, small suctions that left Marik trembling after minutes of this deliberate, sluggish attention. Marik sucked in a deep breath, and Bakura could feel him squirming with need, on the verge of begging him to go faster, but Bakura had no intention of breaking this control. He ran the edges of his teeth against the soft, wet skin, so carefully that Marik gave an impulsive shiver.

"Bakura," Marik panted.

"Hmm?" Bakura murmured, and he knew the hum of his voice must have reverberated against Marik's skin, because he felt it twitch against his mouth.

"Bakura, you know- you know what I want."

Bakura chuckled, but continued his leisurely pace. "And _you_ know what _I_ want."

Marik didn't reply to that, but his eyes blazed brighter, and his fingers dug deeper into the cushions, and his hips moved upward more insistently.

"Bakura."

Bakura smiled and sucked on the tip for an agonizing ten seconds before finally looking up and saying, "Then say it. Say it and I will."

Marik gazed down at him, his eyes filled with desire, and Bakura couldn't help the way that look affected him again, making his heart jump.

Bakura continued his slow, careful movements for a few more moments, and then-

"Please," Marik finally spit out.

Bakura hadn't thought he'd break Marik that easily, but it was clear that he'd dragged this out long enough. After another moment of unhurried licking and stroking, he suddenly wrapped his mouth around Marik's entire cock, pulling it in completely until it reached the back of his throat.

At that abrupt motion, Marik gasped audibly. His entire body tensed. Bakura heard the scratch of his fingernails against the cushions, using them as an anchor as Bakura feverishly began to lick and lap along Marik's cock, his mouth now entirely wrapped around it.

"Oh, fuck," Marik gasped again, and Bakura got exactly what he wanted: the feeling of completely surprising and satisfying his partner in a way that made him entirely moldable to his actions. He loved seeing Marik like this- undone, disheveled, overwhelmed. And what he loved the most about it was that _he_ was the one that created that effect. It was _his_ fingers roaming along Marik's thighs and cupping his balls; it was _his_ tongue that trailed along the wet skin of his cock, sucking it in and leaving Marik panting hard and fast as he thrust into Bakura's mouth.

"Gods, Bakura," Marik murmured, and Bakura glanced up quickly to see Marik's head against the back of the couch, so lost in the feeling that his fingers trailed into Bakura's hair, clutching him frantically. His voice became a breathless, "Don't stop, don't stop, don't stop-"

He was now completely at Bakura's will. His entire body was scorching, burning at Bakura's every touch, losing control of his voice and feverishly spluttering Bakura's name, that of deities, or both. And with each scratch of his fingernails against the cushions, Bakura's own fervor increased. He wanted to see Marik undone. He wanted to see the furious blush, hear the frantic pants, and feel the continuous shivers. It was gratifying, it was stimulating, it was so much sensation that Bakura felt like he was the one about to orgasm, not Marik.

Finally, thrusting upward one last time, Marik came, and Bakura sucked and licked him as he swallowed the come. When Marik was done, Bakura leaned back and smirked, watching the aftereffects of his ministrations. Marik was blushing, a fine sheen of sweat on his forehead and upper lip, as he zipped up his pants again. For a moment, Marik looked like he didn't know what had just happened. He lay against the couch for a few minutes, gathering his breath.

Bakura stood up, still smiling down at Marik.

"Thanks," Marik said, still breathless. "That was-"

"Amazing?"

"-really nice of you," Marik finished as he stood up from the couch. He caught Bakura's eye, and suddenly, he was the one wearing a devilish smirk. "So nice of you, actually, that I think I might want to return the favor."

Marik let that sentence linger as he edged closer to Bakura, coiling his fingers into the belt hoops of Bakura's pants, and pulled him sharply against himself. Bakura was winded by the provocative move, finding himself nose to nose with Marik. He had already been turned on by the blow job he'd just given Marik, and this sudden sultriness wasn't lessening his erection by any means. Especially the prospect of having the favor returned.

His lip quirked upward as he quietly said, "I wouldn't be opposed to that."

At that, Marik slowly trekked backward, pulling Bakura forward by his belt hoops, stepping back until he hit the edge of the couch, when he suddenly whirled them both around, and threw Bakura on the couch. Bakura landed roughly amongst the cushions, aroused by the forceful nature of Marik's throw. He kept careful eye contact with Marik as he approached the couch and sank to his knees, their positions now entirely reversed.

Marik's bright, fervent eyes were so enticing that Bakura almost didn't notice the sound of his zipper being undone, and the shuffle of his jeans against his thighs, and the feeling of Marik's hands on his cock. But then Marik closed his eyes and Bakura felt it all full-force. Marik started off being a complete tease. He eased the tip of his tongue onto Bakura's hardened dick, rubbing his cock with one hand, and taunting the slit with smooth, lapping strokes. It was agonizingly slow but so delicious. Bakura's breath caught each time Marik sucked him in. His fingers dug into Marik's hair, smoothing back his bangs and watching his mouth as his cock eased in and out of it.

He knew how he must have looked because Marik had been in the same position just minutes ago, but at the moment, he couldn't care less. He must have been mouthing Marik's name, trembling each time Marik's tongue swept against his cock, and giving some indication that Marik should go faster and shouldn't stop anytime soon. The feeling was indescribable. His entire body was no longer his own, his reactions transcending anything he would ever normally do, and his blood was rushing down so quickly that he was faint, lightheaded and drunk with a craving that was still not satisfied. He needed more. He dug his fingers into Marik's hair again, trying to be gentle but unable to stop himself from tugging his head closer.

He couldn't bear the overwhelming pressure that had built up inside him with each sucking motion, and finally, he started to thrust into Marik's mouth slowly. In perfect rhythm, Marik caught his thrusts, slickly lapping at his cock. As Marik began to speed up, Bakura closed his eyes, losing himself to the feeling entirely, until, filled with lust and trembling with the need to finally let go, he came.

Marik licked up all the come, swallowing it, and gave Bakura a smirk as he finished.

"Good?" he asked, sitting back down on the couch.

Bakura gave him a lazy smile, breathing in deeply, and Marik smiled back, somehow feeling gratified that he could leave Bakura so breathless. He watched him for a moment. Bakura's white hair was disheveled, his jeans still unbuttoned, his face filled with absolute euphoria. He looked completely fucked.

As Marik gazed at him, he was seized by a sudden impulse, and he leaned in and pressed his lips to Bakura's.

Marik had done it without thinking, and now he broke the kiss and quickly pulled back, wanting to stop before Bakura pushed him away. From the beginning, he'd tried to rein in his desire to engage in these acts of physical affection with Bakura- it was weird and embarrassing that he wanted to do things like this, and Bakura so often reacted negatively to it. He didn't even know why he wanted to do these things with Bakura, but he never let himself consider it too much, because Bakura obviously didn't want it, and after all, Bakura was the one who was dead set on leaving.

And the fact that Bakura would be gone soon was all the more reason for Marik not to let himself think about things like this. Bakura leaving, and the way that made him feel- well, he couldn't define exactly how it made him feel, and he didn't want to. Everything he'd been doing with Bakura conflicted entirely with all of his life goals. Marik had already risked his reputation just by keeping Bakura around for this long, and he'd done it because- he didn't want to consider why. He shouldn't let himself think about things that could distract him from his goals, and it was pointless anyway because Bakura wouldn't be around much longer- but Bakura's looming departure was the absolute last thing he wanted to dwell on. So Marik forced himself to push all thoughts on the subject firmly from his mind.

Marik now realized that the silence between himself and Bakura had stretched out for too long, and he nervously looked over at Bakura, checking to see if his impulsive kiss had made things awkward between them again.

But to Marik's relief, Bakura didn't seem perturbed, either about the kiss or the moment of quiet. He just smiled and slung a casual arm around Marik's shoulders.

"We can bet tomorrow if you want," said Bakura.

Marik let himself relax, smiling back and lying his head on Bakura's shoulder. "I'd like that."


	29. Chapter 29

"Where the _hell_ are you guys?" yelled Bakura.

"Where are you?" Ryou's voice answered him, sounding a bit tinny as it came through the small speakers of Bakura's stolen laptop.

"I'm all the way on the other side of the field!" said Bakura.

"All the way over _there_?" Marik's voice came from behind him. Marik was sitting at his computer desk, and Bakura was on the couch, facing away from him.

"What do you mean, _all the way over there_? How far away are you guys?" asked Bakura.

"We're still back at the safe house," said Ryou.

"What the _fuck_!" screamed Bakura. "We finished getting the supplies ten minutes ago! _How_ are you still there?"

"Calm down, Bakura," said Marik.

"Don't tell me to calm down!" said Bakura. " _Fuck_! I'm getting mobbed!"

"Use your machete," said Ryou.

"What the hell do you think I'm doing?" said Bakura.

"Really, Ryou, you don't think he'd be using his machete?" asked Marik. "He's been whining about that damn thing since the moment we started playing. _I want a machete. Do you think there'll be a machete soon? Do either of you guys see a machete? I don't like playing without a machete._ "

"Shut _up_ , Marik," Bakura said, frantically clicking to decapitate the zombies surrounding him. "Fuck!"

"Don't worry, we're coming, Bakura," said Ryou.

"Well, hurry the fuck up, I'm running out of health!" Bakura said. "How close are you now?"

"We're about halfway across the field now," said Marik. "Just hang on."

"Gods, you guys do this _every_ time! Every damn time! You just stand around and stand around, for _no_ reason, and I finally get bored and wander off, and then I get swarmed and you guys are _still_ in the same damn place, doing _nothing_!"

"Well, maybe you shouldn't wander off," said Marik. "I told you that you get mobbed if you wander off alone."

"Or _maybe_ you guys shouldn't stand around doing nothing!" said Bakura. "Fuck! Oh, fuck this! Now I'm covered in Boomer bile!"

"It's OK, Bakura, we'll be there any second," Ryou said. "Oh- no, wait, Marik startled the witch."

" _How_?" Bakura screamed. "Every time, Marik! _Every_ damn time! How do you even manage that?"

"It's no big deal, I've got this," Marik said. "I can kill her."

"You know, Marik, if you have that kind of trouble aiming, it might be better for you to focus on using a melee weapon," Ryou said helpfully.

"I swear to the gods, Ryou," Marik said in a warning voice.

"Now I'm down! It made me switch to the stupid pistol!" said Bakura.

"Well, I killed the witch," said Ryou. "I'm almost there now."

"No, it's too late!" said Bakura. "Look at this! Look at this! I'm dead!"

"Sorry, Bakura," said Ryou, genuinely sounding contrite.

"Well, if it makes you feel any better, Bakura, I'm dead, too," said Marik.

"Ugh! No, that doesn't make it better! It's worse!" yelled Bakura. "I'm not starting over at the safe house again! I'm not! I'm done with this! I can't play this game with you two idiots!"

At this last, Bakura made an expansive gesture, and his hand knocked over the soda he had sitting on the small coffee table in front of him. Marik heard the sound and immediately whipped his head around to see the can of pop on the floor, soda slowly spilling from its mouth and flowing onto the carpet.

"Bakura!" yelled Marik. "Do you even notice that you just knocked over your pop? And that it's leaking all over the floor?"

"I _did_ notice, I just...somehow, I just couldn't seem to care," said Bakura.

"Well at _least_ pick it up before more of it goes onto the carpet!" Marik yelled, leaping up from his chair.

"No...no, I don't think I'll be doing that," said Bakura.

Ryou giggled. "I guess you weren't kidding about him always trying to destroy your carpet."

Marik furiously grabbed the can of pop off the floor. There was already a huge puddle surrounding it.

"Have fun cleaning that up, Marik," said Bakura.

"Fuck you," said Marik, as he marched into the kitchen to throw the can away and get some paper towels.

"Well, you two are obviously preoccupied, and I should be going soon anyway," Ryou said. "Cordy is going to be here soon, and-"

Ryou cut himself off when he realized that neither one of them was paying the slightest bit of attention to him anymore, and he signed off with a laugh.

By then, Marik was down on his hands and knees, trying to soak up the spill without much success.

"Damn it, I'm going to need to get more paper towels. I hope you're happy _now_ , Bakura."

"Marginally happier, yes," Bakura said.

"Gods, you're insufferable," Marik said, stalking off to get more cleaning supplies.

Moments later, Marik came back, and then he was on the floor again, continuing his futile attempts to keep the soda from leaving a stain on the carpet. Bakura stretched, putting his hands behind his head and his feet up on the coffee table as he looked down at Marik.

"You know, you're never going to get rid of that now," Bakura said, laughing derisively. "It's really funny to watch you try, though."

"Alright, that's it!" yelled Marik. He threw down the paper towels and grabbed Bakura's arm, hauling him up off the couch. "We're dueling _right now._ And when I win, I'm going to make you sorry!"

Bakura jerked his arm out of Marik's grasp and gave him a scowl, but he went along with him to the kitchen. Bakura sat down at the table as Marik threw open the cabinet, getting out their cards and then slamming the door shut.

" _If_ you win," Bakura corrected him. "I wouldn't count on that."

Marik scoffed as he sat down across from Bakura, tossing his deck at him and then beginning to shuffle his own cards. "You _do_ remember that I've beaten you the last three days in a row, don't you?" asked Marik. He started to look through his pockets for a coin.

Bakura could hardly forget. Since they'd agreed to start betting again, they'd dueled every night, and Bakura seemed to be having a terrible run of luck with his cards, because he'd lost every time.

The first time, Marik had shoved him face-first against the wall the moment they'd gotten into the bedroom, pulling down Bakura's jeans and boxers in one swift motion. Then Marik had pushed his own pants and boxers down partway, not even bothering to take them off, as if he couldn't stand to wait another moment. Marik had spent only a few seconds preparing Bakura. Bakura's body was used to being fucked by now, so he didn't _really_ need preparation, though it did make things a bit smoother. But Marik had started out hard and fast right away, not giving Bakura even a second to adjust. It had hurt a little, but Bakura hadn't wanted him to stop. And soon Bakura had become accustomed to Marik's size, and then Marik had started hitting _that_ spot, and an instant later Marik had slipped a hand around Bakura's waist to play with his cock, biting down on his throat from behind at the same time. When Bakura came, he'd screamed so loudly he honestly wondered if the neighbors might have heard it. Afterward, Bakura had fairly collapsed against the wall, and Marik had to hook an arm around his chest to keep him upright and hold him steady while he finished inside him.

The next time had been gentler, Bakura lying on his stomach on the bed, his legs slightly spread, Marik's body pressed against his, and Marik's hands possessively grasping Bakura's wrists as he moved inside him slowly and gently lapped at the wound he'd previously created on Bakura's neck. Near the end, Marik had pulled him up onto his knees so he could reach around and stroke his erection, his other arm wrapped tight around Bakura's waist as he finished him off. When it was over, they'd collapsed together in a tangle of limbs and fallen asleep, bodies intertwined.

The third time, before they started, Marik had leaned in and whispered, _Before I take you, I'm going to make you ready...but not with my fingers...with my tongue,_ and Bakura hadn't been able to suppress a shiver. Then Marik had teased him until he couldn't think, keeping him desperate and on edge for what seemed like hours before eventually leaving him a shaking but very satisfied mess sprawled out on the bed. Marik had kissed him that time, afterward, just briefly, just once, their lips brushing for only an instant, and it had taken all of Bakura's willpower to restrain himself from pulling Marik in for more.

"I said, heads or tails?"

Bakura quickly snapped back to the present. "Tails," he said. "And don't think you're going to win just because you got lucky a few times. You are _so_ fucked tonight. Literally and metaphorically."

The coin came up tails, and Marik gave Bakura a sardonic look. "You just can't accept that I've become a better duelist than you."

Bakura glared at Marik and slammed a card face down on the table. "You can't _seriously_ believe that."

"It's just the truth," said Marik. "Besides, it shouldn't bother you. After all, you _prefer_ losing."

" _What_?"

"Come on, Bakura, you clearly like it better when _I'm_ the one fucking _you_ ," said Marik, placing a 4-Starred Ladybug of Doom face down on his side of the field. "Hasn't that become pretty obvious by now?"

"I- I don't _prefer_ it!" said Bakura, choosing at this point to sacrifice a four-starred monster to raise the Summoned Skull, which promptly defeated the only skill Marik's Ladybug could offer. "Just because I don't mind it doesn't mean- I mean, obviously, I'd _much_ rather be on top."

In the same turn, Bakura played the Necrovalley card, and Marik could sense one of their typical strategies building on Bakura's side of the field- summoning as many Gravekeeper's monsters as possible to ensure that their attack was increased by 500 extra points, which could then be used to overpower any monsters Marik raised. Additionally, Bakura used his turn to play the Dancing Fairy, which would only serve to keep his life points high until Marik found a way to destroy the card.

"You just keep telling yourself that," said Marik, examining his cards and lamenting the unlucky streak he seemed to be having this duel. "Honestly, Bakura, it's _truly_ pathetic that you still won't admit how much you love it when I totally subjugate you."

"What- no, I- I don't!" said Bakura, trying to look affronted but only looking flustered.

Marik laughed, and Bakura glowered at him, eyes glinting with rage. "Oh, don't act like _you_ don't enjoy the consequences of losing," said Bakura. He glanced back at their game, which was proceeding rather quickly as he had managed to raise a Gravekeeper's Assailant and a Gravekeeper's Guard over the last several turns.

"Oh, I guess I don't mind it _so_ much...anymore...now that you don't _totally suck_ at it," said Marik, his eyes sparkling maliciously.

Bakura's face immediately went red with anger. "You will pay for that, Ishtar," he growled. "By the time you're dueling in front of all those people and cameras this Saturday, you _still_ won't be walking right."

Marik turned back to their game, hoping that his unlucky streak might end, but finding that none of his best monsters or spell cards were surfacing in his hand. Several turns later, Bakura's Necrovalley proved to have a powerful effect on Marik's life points, and even though Marik was finally able to destroy the Dancing Fairy and stop Bakura's life points from increasing, there wasn't much left to do but watch the ball swing into Bakura's court, so to speak, and hope for the best.

"We'll just see about that," Marik finally responded. "Even if you win, I still might get to fuck you. After all, it's happened more than once. The last time was...let's see, that time you made me take my shirt off, and you could have fucked me, and you rode me instead."

"Yeah, and when I did that, you only lasted about two minutes," Bakura smirked.

Marik's cheeks went crimson. "I- you-"

Then Bakura played Monster Reborn, and any hope Marik had of winning dissipated. His cards had been bad the entire game, and the only decent monster he'd had was now on Bakura's side of the field, while his side was defenseless.

"Oh, and look at that," Bakura said, taking Hayabusa Knight from Marik's graveyard. "Looks like I can use this to attack you for the last of your life points. Who's the better duelist now?"

"Fuck," said Marik. And before he could even blink, Bakura was already up, and had grabbed him by the wrist, dragging him toward the bedroom.

"You are going to be _so_ sorry," Bakura said, pulling Marik along. "We'll just see who likes it best on the bottom."

Bakura started undressing the instant they were in the bedroom. He'd pulled off his shirt before Marik even closed the door behind them, and was undoing his belt when Marik crossed his arms, giving him a dirty look.

"You know, I can't even believe that you won," Marik said finally, as if it had been on the tip of his tongue since Bakura stood up and dragged him into the bedroom. He pulled his shirt off in one swipe and started on his jeans. "That was the unluckiest game I think I've _ever_ had. First, I wasn't getting any monsters." Marik paused long enough to unbutton his jeans and start pulling them down. "Second, when I finally did get monsters, they were all too powerful for me to summon and needed at least one sacrifice, which I didn't have. And third, I seriously think you loaded up your deck with way too many spell and trap cards. There is no way you can have that many Malevolent Nuzzlers and Black Pendants on your monsters in the course of one game. Oh, and don't even get me started on the Dancing Fairy!"

As he finished, he jumped on the bed and kicked off his jeans, now only in his boxers.

Bakura rolled his eyes as he peeled off his jeans and then his boxers, approaching the bed completely nude now. "Marik, the game was totally fair. I didn't put any extra cards in my deck, and even if you were unlucky- which I don't believe, by the way- there's no way you can deny that you lost, and I won."

Marik's face turned bright red with what Bakura assumed to be irritation. He wasn't even looking at Bakura's naked body, as he normally would, so it was safe to assume he wasn't blushing out of arousal. He gave Bakura an incredibly vile look, taking off his boxers without even looking and pulling himself higher on the bed.

"Doubtful," he scoffed.

"That I won?"

"No, that you didn't cheat! I'm convinced that you had at least one too many spell cards," Marik said, as Bakura settled himself on top of Marik and their bare skin brushed together. For a moment, Marik looked distracted as Bakura placed an arm against the pillow and edged his knee between Marik's legs.

"Well, I can promise you I didn't put any extra cards in my deck," Bakura snapped, getting irritated now that Marik was still bringing up the duel. "You can't blame _me_ for you having such poor dueling skills, even after we've been practicing for this long."

"Me? Poor dueling skills? Says the person who's lost to me three days in a row," Marik said, his voice now a little more strained as Bakura lowered his head and traced the curve of Marik's neck with his tongue.

"And did you ever hear me complaining even once about you cheating, or me being unlucky, or not having any monster cards, or no spell cards, or you having too many cards? Not once."

Marik snorted, but that noise turned into a sharp breath as Bakura's lips suddenly curled around Marik's nipple and he gave it a playful, careful bite and then sucked it between his teeth. Marik fell quiet for an instant, subdued by the motion of Bakura's mouth catching his nipple and twirling his tongue around it. Bakura's hand found Marik's other, unattended nipple and gave it a slow squeeze, causing Marik to hiss and arch into him.

"You _have_ complained, actually," Marik finally said, as if resurfacing from a brief distraction. "Don't give me this crap about not complaining, because all you've been doing the past few days is-ah!" He paused again, arching as Bakura flicked his finger against Marik's nipple, and then took it into his mouth to continue sucking on it. "-is complaining. I mean, take...take that dumb thing today with the shooter game! What was up with you, anyway? You totally blew up for no reason."

"Oh, please. I blew up for no reason?" Bakura asked, his hands now roaming down the length of Marik's body and settling on his hips. He could tell that Marik was way too distracted by today's arguments to stop talking even for the sake of sex, and it was starting to piss him off. His grip dug into Marik's thighs as he continued, "Both you and Ryou act like you have no fucking idea what you're doing when you're playing that game. Of course I got mad! I can't even get anything accomplished in the game because either I'm dying and neither of you are around to help or I have to sit around and wait for you both to catch up."

With that, Bakura ducked his head and continued licking across Marik's chest. He would just have to find other, more seductive pathways to get Marik to stop talking long enough for them to fuck. He settled lower between Marik's legs as he licked his way down his stomach and made it down to Marik's dick, which was now half-hard. He curled his fingers around it, moving up and down its length as he took the tip into his mouth and sucked hard on it.

"You could- ah, oh gods, don't stop that- you could be a _little_ more considerate about that when we're playing. Obviously...obviously Ryou and I are still new to the game and- and we're not sure of what we're doing..." His breath caught again as Bakura opened his mouth wider and took Marik in completely. Marik was totally hard now. He was raking his fingers down the sheets, making small moaning sounds, and pushing up into Bakura's mouth. His mouth was ajar as he watched Bakura, a flush across his cheeks.

It seemed like Bakura had finally managed to subdue Marik when he suddenly spoke again.

"But, you know, it really isn't fair of you to get that upset about a stupid game," Marik said. " _Especially_ when it causes you to throw pop all over my carpet!"

"Oh, for the love of-" Bakura snapped, removing his mouth from Marik's cock. "Will you _shut up_ about your fucking carpet?"

"No," Marik said, and he still looked so irritated that the loss of Bakura's mouth around his dick didn't even seem to bother him. "You have destroyed my carpet time and time again, and you don't even care that it bothers me. I think you're doing it just to spite me!"

Bakura smirked because that was exactly why he was doing it. Still. This wasn't the time to indulge Marik's argument because they were in the middle of sex, and by the gods, he would continue to have sex with Marik even if he talked the whole way through.

"Marik, trust me when I say that it wasn't on purpose, so if you'll please shut up about the carpet, I can get on with this."

Marik looked briefly assuaged as Bakura chose this moment to start a new form of foreplay, hoping that maybe this would distract Marik long enough. He briefly cupped Marik's balls before touching him even lower, until his fingers brushed against Marik's ass, just briefly brushing against the hole. He heard Marik's breath hitch, and decided to continue. Needing more access, he placed one hand under Marik's knee and brought it up over his shoulder, and then lowered his head down until his face was right up against Marik's opening, and he tentatively started licking there.

It was strange at first, but Bakura was reminded of the times Marik had done this to him, and how pleasurable it had been. With only that thought in mind, he now traced the skin with his tongue, experimentally poking it into the hole.

Predictably, Marik broke the silence.

"Are you just doing this to make me want to get fucked?"

That was exactly what Marik had been doing the first time he'd given Bakura a rim job. Marik had been trying to break Bakura to make him want to be fucked, and perhaps Bakura could now do the same to Marik.

"Yes, obviously. Now will you let me get on with it?"

And then Marik had the nerve to start laughing. With Bakura pressed right up to his asshole, licking his way around it and into it, he was laughing. Bakura stopped and shot Marik a sharp look of irritation.

"Is this going back to our whole argument about getting subjugated?" Marik asked, and despite the tone of his voice, he sounded a bit breathless. "You're not going to get me to _prefer_ being on the bottom, Bakura. That's all you, and I'm pretty sure I've already proven that to the both of us."

Bakura scoffed, and decided to try something else. He licked along Marik's thighs, biting very delicately into the skin and tracing upward until he was licking along Marik's balls and dick again.

Finally, he glanced up at Marik. "Like I said, I _don't_ prefer getting fucked. I'd much rather be the one fucking you."

Before Marik could respond, Bakura lowered himself and pressed his face close to Marik's hole again, proceeding to lick it more vigorously now. He swirled his tongue in circular motions, just as he remembered Marik doing to him not so long ago.

"I don't think so," Marik finally said, but despite his words, he shook against Bakura, pushing into him as he continued licking him there. "You- you loved it when I did this to you...You loved getting fucked by me afterward."

"Shut up," Bakura growled, pressing his tongue deeper into Marik's opening until Marik trembled up against him. For a few moments, they were silent, and the only noises were Marik's quiet moans and the sounds Bakura was making with his tongue.

After a moment, Bakura couldn't help but say, "You sound like you're enjoying it."

Marik shivered as Bakura continued, but finally said, "It's decent. I'm sure if I were doing this to you, you'd be losing your head over it."

"Oh, really?" Bakura said, removing his mouth. "Well, if it's just decent, why don't we get on with something you'll enjoy more?"

Bakura moved toward the nightstand, where he pulled out the bottle of lube from a drawer and coated his fingers in it. He placed his hands back on Marik's ass, slowly adding a finger inside to loosen him further. Admittedly, Marik probably _was_ better at finding that particular spot that made sex so fantastic, but Bakura was getting faster at finding it, too. He hooked his finger and pressed deeper inside, changing the angle until he felt Marik shiver against him. He did the same with a second finger until he was sure Marik was ready, and then removed his hand. Coating himself in lube, he pressed right up against Marik's ass and pushed his cock inside, moving slowly enough to let Marik adjust.

When he was completely inside, he immediately experimented with the angle, thrusting until he found the spot again. Marik tipped his head back this time when he felt it, pushing his ass up against Bakura's cock as Bakura began to take him fast and hard. He kept his grip tight on Marik's hips as Marik trembled against him.

"Oh, gods," Marik said, panting now. The entire bed frame was squeaking with the force of their bodies slamming together again and again, and Bakura was overwhelmed with how tight and delicious Marik's ass was around him. No matter what Marik claimed, Bakura relished in being on top, and he broke the silence to let him know so.

"Still sounds- like you're enjoying it," Bakura panted. He wrapped his hand around Marik's cock, moving his fingers up and down in time with his thrusts.

Marik had been muttering things like  _yes_ _, yes, faster_  for a while now, and he paused to breathlessly say, "I would have still enjoyed it...ah...a lot more if I had won the game."

"Well, maybe if you'd played better, you would have."

"Don't get me started on this again..." Marik said, but it was with a lot less heat than before. "I had no luck at all, and if you hadn't gotten a Monster Reborn _right_ after I lost my Hayabusa Knight, I- ah, I think I'm getting close-"

Bakura smirked, moving faster. It seemed like all that foreplay _had_ affected Marik if he was close already. Bakura continued stroking him, brushing his thumb against the tip.

"If I'd had even one Black Pendant or Dark Hole toward the end...ah—" Marik continued suddenly, his mind still on the duel. "I would have beaten you. I only lost by 100 life points, so if...if you didn't have that monster, I would have- I would've destroyed you."

It seemed like that was the last thing Marik could say before he finally let himself go, and an instant later, he came all over Bakura's hand. Bakura continued thrusting inside Marik for another minute before he felt the overwhelming feeling building in him, and finally, he thrust hard one last time before coming. He softened his thrusts until he'd released everything, and after pulling out, they both collapsed on the bed, spent. Their legs were tangled up, but neither seemed to mind the closeness.

Bakura was still panting when he replied, smirking, "But you didn't."

Marik glanced at him, an arm splayed over Bakura's waist, and Bakura was surprised to see him smiling.

"Yeah, or maybe I just took pity on you for losing three days in a row and let you win."

Bakura frowned. "You didn't...did you?"

Marik shrugged, his eyes falling shut as, loose-limbed, he seemed ready to sleep. "I guess you'll never know," he murmured.

Bakura watched Marik as his breath evened out, and soon Marik seemed to be fast asleep. Bakura pulled Marik tighter against himself. Finally, pushing all thoughts of their arguments aside, Bakura likewise closed his eyes and, feeling immensely satiated, he fell asleep as well.


	30. Chapter 30

Ryou's face popped onto the screen.

"Hey, Bakura. What do you need?"

"What makes you think I need anything?" Bakura asked, stretching and lacing his arms behind his head.

Ryou's lips quirked into a smile. "Because I know you, and you wouldn't call just to talk."

Bakura smiled back. "Alright, you got me."

"So, what is it?"

"Well, Marik's tournament is this weekend, so on Saturday, I'm going to- well, just make sure people know where you are that day. Make sure someone can vouch for the fact that you didn't leave Japan."

Ryou nodded. "I understand."

There was silence for a moment, and then Ryou said, "So, after that, you're going to..."

"I'll be leaving, yes," answered Bakura.

Ryou's face clouded for a moment. "So you're really leaving? Seriously?"

Bakura shrugged. "What else would I do?"

Ryou bit his lip. "Where are you going to go?"

Bakura seemed caught off guard. "Well...I- I'm not really sure."

"Bakura, you know I told you you're always welcome-" Ryou started.

"Yeah, but I can't be hanging around your place...not so soon after I steal...well, you know. It wouldn't be safe for me to be anywhere in Japan, really. Yugi will be going back there anytime now...that's not a risk I want to take."

"Then what can I do to help?" asked Ryou.

"I don't _need_ anyone's help," snapped Bakura. "I can take care of myself...I did it practically my whole life in ancient Egypt. I'll figure something out."

"I know that, of course," Ryou said. "But it would just be easier if you actually had a place to go, right? So you didn't have to bother with figuring something out yourself?"

"Well..." Bakura started reluctantly. Then, finally, "...Yeah."

Ryou smiled. "Alright, just hold on for a bit. I'm going to make some calls and I'll call you back."

"You don't have to-"

"I know."

"Well- if you can't call back before around five my time, then...then just wait until tomorrow," Bakura finally said.

Ryou understood without Bakura having to explain that he didn't want to talk about this after Marik was home. "Right. Just wait for my call."

Ryou's face disappeared from the screen without another word, and Bakura sat for several minutes, drumming his fingers on the desk. After a while, he got up, and proceeded to do...not much of anything, as he always did when he was in the apartment alone. As the time grew later, he began to think that Ryou wasn't going to call back that day, but then he heard the tone that meant Ryou was contacting him on Skype, and he quickly went to the computer and clicked to answer the call.

"Alright, I've got something," Ryou said.

"Really?" Bakura looked surprised.

"Yeah," said Ryou. "See, Cordy has these friends in England- she's from England, you know. That's how we met, actually. I mentioned to her that I have relatives in England- did I ever tell you that I have some relatives from England?- and so we started talking, and- well, actually, _she_ was the one who asked _me_ out, so-"

Bakura made a _hurry up_ gesture with his hand. "Alright, alright, I don't need your whole life story."

Ryou smiled indulgently. "Well, _anyway_ , I talked to Cordy, and then we talked to some of her friends in England- they're a couple, a guy and a girl, they have a flat together- and they said you could stay with them for a while."

"Seriously? Just like that?"

"They're nice people," said Ryou.

"Wait a second," said Bakura. "What did you tell them about me to make them agree to this?"

Ryou glanced up evasively. "Well...I just told them that you and your roommate...can't live together anymore...and that you're from Egypt, and that you'd really prefer to get out of there since Egypt isn't too...tolerant..." Ryou trailed off.

"Ryou," Bakura said warningly, "did you tell them that I'm gay?"

Ryou huffed and rolled his eyes. "They don't care, Bakura. In fact, it made them more sympathetic to your situation. And I had to give them _some_ reason why you can't stay in Egypt. Would you rather I have told them you have to flee the country because you're robbing a museum?"

Bakura sighed in resignation. "Alright, alright," he said. "So I just go to these people's place and...stay there?"

"Well, of course you can't stay there forever," Ryou said. "Though I doubt you'd want to do that anyway. But, yeah, you can stick around for maybe a month or so, until you figure out something more permanent."

"That's fine," said Bakura. "That should be plenty of time for me to figure out a source of income, and then I'll just get a place of my own."

"Yes, I'm sure you'll be busy seeking gainful employment," Ryou said sarcastically, smiling in spite of himself.

"Of course," Bakura smirked back, winking.

"By the way, you're my cousin and your name is Basil."

Bakura raised his eyebrows. "I am? It is?"

"Well, I couldn't tell them your name is Bakura...that's my last name, so it would be weird. And you being my cousin...well, it explains why we look so much alike."

"You're becoming quite the little liar, Ryou," Bakura smiled. "I think I may be a bad influence on you."

"You always have been," Ryou laughed. "Besides, Cordy said it was alright to tell a little white lie, since it's for the greater good, helping someone out. And you're _basically_ like family, anyway."

"Wait...how much have you told Cordy about me?"

Ryou looked surprised at the question. "Everything," he said. "I always tell her everything."

Bakura looked exasperated. "I take it back. You don't lie _nearly_ enough."

Ryou smiled. "Look, let me give you their address. Do you need any help getting there? Money or anything?"

Ryou began typing out the address, and Bakura grabbed a piece of paper and began scribbling it down.

"No, I've already been selling off some of the stuff I've...accumulated during my time here," Bakura said. "You know, the stuff I don't really need. So I'm set for money for a while. I can make it to England."

"Alright, well...you should give me a call when you get there," Ryou said. "Do you think you'll stick around the area, when you get enough money to move out?"

Bakura shrugged. "Might as well," he said. "Not like I have anywhere else in particular to go."

"That's good," said Ryou. "I'll probably see you when Cordy and I visit England, then."

"By the way, Ryou," Bakura said. "You don't have to worry about me getting your friends in trouble. You know how good I am at not getting caught. Nothing I do will come down on them. I'll make sure of it."

Ryou smiled, knowing that for Bakura, what he'd said was tantamount to _thank you so much._ "I know, Bakura. I trust you."

Bakura scowled for a moment. "I guess it's good that _someone_ does."

A look of worry crossed Ryou's face, but before he could respond, Bakura had already clicked the button to end the call.

It wasn't long before Marik got home from work and started cooking dinner. Bakura considered telling Marik that he'd found a place to go, but he knew that he couldn't tell him any details, since it was safest for both of them if Marik had no idea where he was heading. And he didn't really want to bring up the unpleasant subject of his leaving if he didn't have to. So, instead, they spent dinner chatting easily about inconsequential things, and Bakura tried to put his conversation with Ryou out of his mind for the moment.

After dinner, they headed to the living room to watch a movie. When it was over, Marik started reaching for the remote to shut off the TV, and Bakura knew that Marik was about to ask him to duel, and to bet. He took a moment to notice how habitual their activities had become. It would be...strange when he didn't have this routine anymore. At this thought, he suddenly realized that he didn't want to bet- he wanted something different that night.

Nearly everything he did with Marik drove him out of his mind. Being inside Marik was so good it was almost unbearable, so good that he usually had to struggle to hold back, just so it would last long enough to be good for Marik too. And when Marik gave him a blow job, the sensations, and the sound of it, and the way Marik looked- everything about it drove him completely crazy. Even just Marik's touch was enough to make him lose the ability to think. And when Marik was inside of him... _that_ was utterly indescribable, incomparable, like nothing else in the world.

But the only time Marik really seemed to lose his mind was when he was on the receiving end of a blow job. That was the only time Bakura could really make Marik lose all control and totally give himself over. And Bakura wanted him like that tonight- wanted Marik to be completely _his,_ if only for a few moments.

Just then, Marik turned to him and asked the question Bakura knew he was about to ask. "So...do you wanna have a duel? "

"No, I want-" Bakura started.

Suddenly, he grabbed Marik and threw him down onto his back, and in one quick motion, he moved to straddle him, taking hold of Marik's wrists and pinning them above his head. He leaned down close to Marik, so his breath was in his ear, and he took a moment to figure out how to pose his question- he certainly wasn't going to tell Marik what he'd been thinking, or the real reason why he wanted what he wanted.

"I want you to suck me off," Bakura finally growled into Marik's ear. He paused for a moment. "And...if you do...I'll do the same for you. "

"Alright, if that's what you want," Marik said. He still sounded winded from Bakura's sudden aggressive move.

"Then let's go to the bedroom," Bakura said. "It's more comfortable to do it in there."

"Okay," Marik said agreeably enough.

So Bakura let Marik up, and led him to the bedroom.

Once inside the door, it was Marik's turn to grab Bakura, tossing him onto the bed and positioning himself on top of him. He immediately began to remove Bakura's shirt, and Bakura gave him a questioning look.

"I want to see all of you," Marik said.

Bakura sighed in satisfaction and raised his arms, lying back and allowing Marik to undress him completely, and then he reached down and grabbed Marik's shirt, pulling it over his head, letting his fingers skim across Marik's back as he did so, taking pleasure in the shiver this elicited from Marik.

Bakura saw lust flash in Marik's eyes for an instant, and then, before he even knew what was happening, Marik leaned down and swallowed him completely in one sudden motion. Bakura gasped in surprise, his hands immediately twining into Marik's hair. Then Marik started moving, and Bakura tipped his head back, not even trying to maintain control anymore, letting himself get lost in sensation. Marik was sucking him in so deep, and every time he came up, his tongue would circle and flick all around the tip, and then he would swallow him all the way down again. Then Marik added a hand, his fingers making a tight circle around Bakura's cock, squeezing and slippery with saliva and following directly after his lips with every movement, and soon Bakura was already close to losing it.

Bakura's body gave a warning shudder, and he moved his hands down to Marik's shoulders, needing something he could grip onto tighter. Suddenly, Marik released Bakura from his mouth, bringing his head up, and Bakura looked at him with confusion.

"Don't worry, I'm going to finish you," Marik said. "I just want to do something that will make it better for you when I do."

Then Marik put two of his fingers into his mouth, slowly sliding them in and out. Bakura looked up at him in a daze, too far gone to think, only knowing that what Marik was doing looked incredibly sexy.

Marik lowered his hand, and Bakura's eyes widened, suddenly realizing what Marik was going to do.

"I think you like it better when you have something _inside_ when you come," Marik said quietly, his own eyes clouded with desire. "You do, don't you?"

"N-no," said Bakura automatically, and even as he did, he unthinkingly spread his legs, a silent invitation.

Marik brought his hand close to Bakura's opening. "Will you let me? While I finish you?"

"I- anything, yes, if you'll just-"

Marik slid his fingers inside at the exact moment he swallowed Bakura's cock all the way down again, and Bakura moaned uncontrollably. Marik's fingers found the right spot easily, brushing against it over and over in perfect time with the movements of his mouth. Bakura shook, his fingers digging into Marik's shoulders, caught between wanting to thrust up into Marik's mouth and wanting to push down onto Marik's fingers. As Marik lapped incessantly at the underside of Bakura's cock, Bakura unconsciously spread his legs further, an unspoken request. Marik understood, and Bakura came the instant Marik added a third finger. Bakura cried out as he spilled everything into Marik's mouth, and Marik sucked hard, swallowing it all.

When he was done, Marik came up and lay down on top of Bakura, pressing their bodies close together, Bakura naked and Marik shirtless. Bakura was panting, and for a moment he was unable to comprehend anything, but as he breathed deeply and slowly recovered, he noticed something hard against his thigh, and realized he could feel Marik's erection pressing against him through his jeans.

Bakura encircled Marik in his arms. "Did doing that make you hard?" Bakura asked quietly.

Marik blushed in response. Bakura smiled at Marik's reaction, taking Marik and rolling him over so their positions were reversed, Bakura on top of Marik now. "Bet you'd like me to take care of that for you," Bakura said.

Marik nodded shyly, and Bakura reached down to slowly pull off the rest of Marik's clothing.

Then Bakura leaned down close to Marik's ear. "Do you always get hard when you suck me?" he whispered.

"M-maybe," Marik said sheepishly, his blush deepening. From almost the beginning, making Bakura feel good tended to leave Marik awash with overwhelming sensations and confusing emotions, and he'd always felt strange about it; it embarrassed him for Bakura to notice that it affected him at all, when Marik was supposed to be the one in control, and Bakura hadn't even done anything to him. He shouldn't like it _this_ much, and didn't want to consider why he did.

"Good," Bakura said, gently nuzzling Marik's neck.

"Do you- do you like doing it to me?" Marik asked suddenly.

"Yes," Bakura sighed, closing his eyes and brushing his lips against Marik's throat. He felt Marik's skin twitch as his eyelashes brushed against it, as if it tickled him.

"Really?" Marik asked quietly, and Bakura heard the hopeful note in his voice, as if it excited him to think Bakura enjoyed it.

"You have no idea how much I want this," Bakura whispered, voice thick with desire, before pressing a gentle kiss to Marik's collarbone.

" _Oh,_ " Marik said softly, and Bakura felt a jolt go through him at Marik's tone, enraptured by the realization that this made it even better for Marik, to know that Bakura loved doing this to him, and Bakura was still drowning in the afterglow of his own orgasm and couldn't help trailing feather-light kisses down Marik's body as he lowered his head.

Marik's breathing was shaky and he made another sound of pleasure when Bakura finally took him into his mouth, and it was all Bakura had hoped for, Marik moaning and tangling his fingers in Bakura's hair and seeming to completely lose himself in the endless minutes until he finally arched up and came with Bakura's name on his lips.

Bakura moved up and lay his head down on Marik's shoulder, and he let himself relax and close his eyes until he finally fell asleep to the sound of Marik breathing next to him.

 

* * *

 

The next day, when Marik got home from work, he began preparing dinner as usual. As the two sat down to eat, Bakura realized that he couldn't put it off any longer- he had to talk to Marik about his plans.

"So, I'm going to steal the Ring tomorrow," Bakura said casually, between bites of his chicken.

Marik almost dropped his fork. "Tomorrow? Really?"

"Well, of course," Bakura said, raising his eyebrows. "I mean, you'll be at the tournament all day tomorrow, and we already talked about this, about you needing an alibi-"

"But I'll be at the tournament on Sunday, too," Marik cut in.

"Only if you win tomorrow and make it to the final two," Bakura said.

"Are you saying you don't think I'll win?" Marik asked defensively.

Bakura rolled his eyes. "Marik, this isn't the time for a petty argument about your dueling skills. The fact is, all we know _for sure_ is that you'll be at the tournament all day tomorrow. So obviously, that's the safest time for me to steal the Ring."

Marik crossed his arms over his chest and gave Bakura a cold look. "Fine."

"I just wanted you to know," Bakura said, turning back to his food.

A few moments of silence passed, and then Marik suddenly said, "So...are you coming home? On Saturday?"

Bakura looked up. "Why would I?"

"I just..." Marik started. "Well, you know, I just thought maybe...if I win on Saturday...you'd maybe stick around long enough to...to see if I win the finals? I mean, the tournament is going to be on TV...and, you know...I just thought you might...watch?"

Bakura sighed, and seemed to be trying to suppress a smile. "Yeah, alright, sure...after I've wasted all this time helping you, I guess I might as well stick around long enough to see how it all turns out."

Marik smiled in relief. "So you'll be here when I get back from the tournament on Saturday...no matter what?"

Bakura laughed a little at Marik's hopeful tone. As if he wanted to keep him here for just one more day. As if that would matter in the long run. "Yeah, I will. But come Sunday, I'm gone. No more waiting. I'll be gone before you even get back from your duel...if you have one."

Marik's eyes widened. "Before I get back?"

"Well, it's going to be on live TV, right?" said Bakura. "I'll stay long enough to watch and find out if you win...that's it. I _do_ need a head start when I leave, after all."

Marik seemed to accept this, nodding solemnly and wordlessly turning back to his food.

The rest of the meal passed in silence, but then when Marik was at the sink, cleaning their dishes, he suddenly said, "Bakura...I- when I first found you in the Ring a few months back, you said we were the same and- and I guess we are, I guess I've always known we are, we went through the same kinds of things and- and I know we're dealing with it in different ways and taking different paths but- but I just mean- I hope you'll be alright, wherever you're going, because I understand how you- I mean, I know you understand me and-"

"I'll be fine, Marik," Bakura said, cutting off Marik's babbling. "I have something worked out with Ryou, actually. Don't worry about me."

"I wasn't worried," Marik said stiffly.

"Of course not," Bakura said. "Do you want to duel now?"

Marik's eyes lit up briefly, and then he quickly tried to sober himself. "Sure...if you want to."

"Hand me my cards."

The duel took longer than usual, with one being in the lead and then the other, as their life points slowly dwindled, but with neither claiming victory. Finally, Marik flipped a trap and then attacked Bakura's monster for the last of his life points, and smirked up at Bakura.

"I win," he said. "See, I have a great chance at-"

Bakura grabbed his hand roughly and began dragging him back to the bedroom. "Yeah, yeah, save it."

Once they were undressed and lying on the bed, Marik took Bakura by the shoulder and rolled him onto his side, his front facing Bakura's back.

"This is how I was going to do you," Bakura said suddenly, speaking without thinking.

"What?" asked Marik.

"You know, when we made the bet where the winner got to choose the position? This is the position I was going to have you in, if I'd won."

"But- you said you were going to have me on my hands and knees-" Marik started.

"Yeah, but I wouldn't actually do that, because I know you'd genuinely hate it," Bakura said. "I just said I was going to do that to freak you out."

"You jerk," Marik said indignantly. But Bakura could hear the smile in his voice. There was a short silence, and then finally, Marik asked, "So...why would you want to do me on my side, anyway?"

Bakura's body stiffened. He didn't know why he was doing this, why he was telling Marik these things now. Maybe all of Marik's talk about them being the same was just getting to him, or maybe it was the recent conversation that was a blatant reminder that he'd be leaving in two days. Whatever it was, he suddenly very much wanted to be close to Marik, and now he was thinking about what he'd wanted to do to Marik back when he'd made that bet and for some reason he wanted to let Marik know what he'd been planning and this was all a bad idea but he couldn't stop himself.

Suddenly Bakura turned himself around, and then he forcefully rolled Marik over, reversing their positions, curling himself up against Marik's body.

"So I could be all pressed up against your back, like this," Bakura answered quietly, pushing his chest tight against Marik's scarred back.

"Ah-" Marik said, as he felt Bakura pull him near.

"Because we _are_ the same," Bakura whispered. "I have the same scars as you- mine just aren't visible."

Then Bakura withdrew a little, enough to slip a hand between their bodies.

"And maybe I'd touch you like this," he said softly, stroking Marik's scars with his fingers.

Bakura heard Marik's breath quicken, and he bent to kiss his shoulder. "And like this."

Marik let out a shaky sigh, and Bakura's eyes fluttered closed as he began trailing soft kisses all across the carved wings on Marik's shoulders. He felt Marik begin to shudder against him.

"You like this? Hm?" Bakura murmured against his skin.

"Yes," Marik gasped. "Bakura- yes-"

Bakura felt a shiver run through his own body and he realized he should never have started this- this was too much, too intense. He was running his fingertips over Marik's scars and his hand was shaking and if he had to hear one more soft little sigh of contentment from Marik, he would end up telling him how beautiful he was, and how much he wanted to make love to him this way.

He had to stop.

He couldn't stop.

Bakura felt Marik's body shudder against him again, and he finally forced himself to pull away, sliding over to the other side of the bed, putting distance between himself and Marik.

Marik rolled over to face Bakura.

"Bakura...I need..."

He didn't finish, but he didn't have to; it was obvious what he needed. He had reached out to cup Bakura's face with his hand, and now he was slowly leaning in, his face getting closer and closer to Bakura's.

The fact that Marik had used the word _need_ \- not even _want_ , but _need_ \- stilled Bakura momentarily. He could let this happen. He could let Marik kiss him, just for a little while...or maybe just a bit longer than that, just long enough to quell a want so strong it actually felt like a physical ache in his chest...even though he knew that doing so would only make the ache so much worse two days from now, when he left and would never see Marik again...

Just before their lips were about to meet, Bakura jerked his head away from Marik's soft grip and flipped over so that his back was now facing Marik.

"Well...you won the bet. Go ahead," said Bakura abruptly.

Marik was quiet, dazed for a moment. Then he seemed to snap out of it and reached for the lube. He began preparing Bakura, but there was something almost rote about it, and both could feel the distance between them.

"Ready?" Marik finally asked.

"Sure," Bakura said, sounding almost disinterested.

Marik sighed despondently and pushed in. After a few minutes, Bakura was still barely reacting, even when Marik's hand roamed across his chest and toyed with his nipples.

"You don't seem like you're very into this," Marik finally said.

Bakura shrugged. Just casual, not even a denial or an argument. Marik clenched his teeth in frustration, pausing his movements for a moment.

Suddenly, Marik got an idea of how to bring Bakura back to him, and leaned over to growl into his ear. "Fine, then don't come until I do."

"What?" Bakura asked sharply.

"When we do this, you usually come way before me," said Marik, beginning to thrust again. "This time, wait for me."

"Why should I?"

"Why not? If you're not enjoying it that much, it shouldn't be difficult."

Bakura snarled, and Marik reached down and grabbed his cock and began stroking, causing Bakura to suck in breath.

"That's- that's not going to work, Marik-"

"If it doesn't work, it doesn't work," said Marik. "Just don't come yet."

It sounded as if Bakura tried to scoff, but Marik was still moving inside him and touching him and Bakura's breath was starting to speed up, and then Marik took his hand away and reached behind him to grab something, and the next thing Bakura knew, Marik's hand was on him again but now it was all wet and slippery.

"What- what are you doing?"

"Just making things a little harder for you," said Marik tauntingly.

Marik gave him a hard stroke and Bakura gasped, and Marik smirked with vindication.

"Don't come," Marik said, giving him another firm stroke. Bakura drew in breath, and Marik thought it was more because of his words than his actions.

It went on like that, and eventually Bakura was panting hard but Marik still didn't feel satisfied, so he took his hand away, but he kept thrusting, just focusing on his own pleasure, but having difficulty in finding it.

"Don't come," Marik growled again, almost automatically, and then he felt Bakura tremble against him and he realized that Bakura was having trouble holding back even now, even when he wasn't touching him at all, and he growled into Bakura's ear again and told him how he could make him come with just this, and when he felt Bakura shiver uncontrollably he suddenly felt their connection snap back into place and then he was climbing toward his own peak.

"I'll tell you- when-" Marik gasped out. "But I won't touch you until- you start coming-"

Bakura whimpered at his words, trying to maintain control, and that was it for Marik; he knew he wouldn't last much longer himself.

"Alright- now-"

He felt Bakura's approaching orgasm, and he reached down to help him through it, and he came instantly when he felt Bakura's cock pulse inside his fist.

Marik finished inside him, and he was about to pull out, but then he felt Bakura's hand gripping onto his arm, as if Bakura didn't want him to move, even though they were both done.

He felt confused; Bakura had pushed him away earlier, and now there was this closeness, which was what he'd been aiming for, technically- he hadn't liked Bakura being distant from him, after all. Not that he should care, since of course he knew that Bakura never wanted to kiss him, so he shouldn't have tried to- not that it made a difference to him that Bakura didn't want that kind of thing, since this would all be over soon, which was perfectly fine with him. It was the right thing, he knew it was the right thing for his life, and Bakura obviously thought it was the right thing since he'd been the one to suggest it in the first place, so it didn't matter one way or another. But Bakura was gripping onto him now, and he didn't even want to think about what it meant as he felt Bakura relax against him and he heard Bakura's breathing slow and he was _still inside._

"Bakura- you're- you're going to fall asleep while I- while I'm still-"

Bakura didn't respond, only relaxed his grip and settled further against Marik, and Marik shivered all the way to his bones. Then he did what he always did and pushed every thought away from his mind, because he _couldn't_ let himself think about this, for so many reasons. He felt Bakura twitch as he descended into sleep, and then Marik closed his own eyes and tightened his arms around Bakura and soon he fell asleep as well, still inside of him.


	31. Chapter 31

Marik and Bakura both stood at the doorway. Marik was about to head to the tournament. Soon after, Bakura would leave to steal the Ring.

"Well," Bakura said, "good luck."

"Not that I'll need it," said Marik. He paused. "Good luck to you, too."

Bakura smirked. "Not that I'll need it."

On impulse, Marik leaned in and pressed a short kiss to Bakura's lips.

"Well, see you tonight," Marik said.

Marik looked nervous for an instant, but his expression changed to one of relief when Bakura smiled at him. "Yeah, see you tonight," Bakura said.

Marik returned his smile and then left the apartment without another word.

Bakura waited a little while before he headed out. As he threw on his coat and locked up the apartment, it dawned on him how strangely domestic their encounter had just been. Two partners leaving the house to go to work. A short kiss on the lips. A quick _s_ _ee you tonight_.

But this was an aimless thought, so Bakura shook himself and focused on the task at hand. The museum was several miles from Marik's apartment, in the heart of Luxor. As he walked, the main streets brought back memories of steals that seemed eons ago. He mentally marked the street where he'd done a clever exchange of fake jewelry for a token once, and then he strolled past the park on the left, which brought about some memories that involved severely hurting his shoulder, and then some memories of that night that weren't as painful. These thoughts filtered like coffee through a strainer, concentrating the grounds until he got sick of these reminders and stared at the sidewalk the rest of the way to the museum.

He skirted the building as he approached, and stole through a back door that was easy to lock-pick. He couldn't help it. The sheer fact that he was approaching the Ring again made him nervous. A boulder dropped into the pit of his stomach as he edged through the hallways, hood covering his long hair and masking the top half of his face. The tips of his fingers grew cold and his hands grew clammy as the Ring's presence pressed closer and closer. It was an ancient tug that carried him through the halls without a single misstep or hesitation.

And then he was there.

The room opened up like a wide, inverted bowl, and in the center were the Millennium Items. The efforts of the diggers and museum officials laid polished on crimson pillows in see-through cases. Bakura had to remind himself again that these Items no longer held their powers, but- how could they not when they gleamed so unnaturally bright? The gold winked at him with every step, holding his gaze like an unblinking lover, until he was finally close enough to touch the case.

He disarmed the security system as easily as he would take a smoke. When he was finished, the case was no longer sensitive to his touch, and he raised it quickly to take the Ring before letting the case drop back with a definitive _thwack_. He placed the Ring around his neck, hiding it carefully beneath his shirt.

Bakura was positive that some of the security cameras had already picked up footage of his presence, but just to be sure, he walked right beneath one of them on his way out of the dome-shaped room. When the camera crew checked out the videos on Monday, they would see a timestamp on the screen, which would rule out any chance that Marik had been the one to steal the Ring since he'd been at the tournament all day.

Despite the easy steal, Bakura breathed a sigh of relief when he was out the back door again. The Ring was safely around his neck. The cool touch of the gold was pacifying, like a comforting hand across his forehead, and he hoped this would be the last time he'd ever have to steal it.

 

* * *

  
Bakura got home long before Marik did. He took off his coat and threw it on the hook by the doorway, heading into the living room to flop down on the couch. The Ring had been safely concealed inside his shirt, but now he took it out, admiring it as he stroked a finger along the golden surface.

It was good to have it back in his possession, where it rightfully belonged. With the Ring, he felt more secure, more _whole_. He was glad the theft had gone as planned- it was one less thing to worry about, and now that he had the Ring back, he was sure he'd be much more confident in any future heists.

He supposed his theft of the Ring truly cemented his plans. The museum officials would discover the Ring's absence by Monday, and there would be no way he could stay in the country with it in his possession. Not that he was going to stay anyway- after all, Marik had made his decision. Even without the Ring, he would have to hide forever if he stayed here, and that wouldn't work for either of them.

At that thought, he got up abruptly. He supposed he should go ahead and pack his things. There was no sense in leaving it to the last minute.

He didn't have a whole lot to pack, merely a duffel bag or so. Most of his belongings were in the living room, where he'd spent most of his time while staying with Marik. The t-shirts and jeans went in first, and he even found some under the couch and beneath the cushions- clearly, they'd gotten carried away on that couch one too many times.

Bakura hovered around the movie collection. None of it was his, of course, but something about the movie titles, and the abundance of familiar ones he'd watched with Marik, suddenly hit him. All the horror classics and the plotlines they'd argued over now came back to him in waves, and for a second, he paused and gripped the edge of the bookcase, waiting for the moment to pass. It was like standing up too fast. He had trouble focusing; each movie title came in double vision. Finally, he shook his head and looked away from the collection.

There wasn't much in the bathroom that belonged to him. As he clicked off the light, the only thing he took from the room was a memory of the time they'd had sex in the shower. That in itself hit him like another dizzy spell.

The kitchen, like the bathroom, held little that belonged to him. But the sight of the table on which he'd eaten and played card games for what felt like eternity now was so strong that he might as well have owned it. He pressed his hand against the wooden surface and traced it. It was cool and smooth beneath his fingers, and he intended to press the feeling into his memory. The rest of the kitchen was still as ratty as he remembered it from day one, but it wasn't worn in an ugly sense. It belonged to Marik. It was his, and Bakura couldn't help but find it charming. Great, even. Homey.

The bedroom was the last place he looked, and the instant he entered the room, he was breathless. He ran a fingertip across the nightlight Marik used to ward off his nightmares, remembering the way he'd laughed at first. Now, there was only something hard lodged in Bakura's throat at the sight of this light. How could he laugh at a nightmare that was as much his own as it was Marik's?

An hour later, he was done packing, and he distracted himself with TV until Marik got home.

It was late by the time Marik returned. Bakura met him in the hallway, and immediately, Marik glanced down at the Ring hanging around Bakura's neck. "So...no trouble, I take it?"

"None at all," Bakura said.

"Do you feel better? Now that you have it back?"

"I do," said Bakura. "How about you? How'd you do in the tournament?"

Marik beamed at him. "I made it to the finals!"

"Congratulations," Bakura said. He wasn't very comfortable complimenting people, but finally, he said begrudgingly, "Your dueling skills really have improved. You deserve it."

Marik smiled. "Thanks."

"So I guess that means tomorrow's your final duel," Bakura said.

"Yeah," said Marik. "If I can just beat the other finalist, I win the whole tournament."

"Do you think you will?"

"I don't want to be overconfident, but I don't think I'll have a problem," Marik said. "The other guy is good, but not _that_ good. She got lucky on some duels."

"Yeah, I think you can win," said Bakura. "Like I said, you've become pretty good...all thanks to me, of course."

Marik smiled. "Yeah."

There was silence between them for a moment, and then Marik said, "Thanks for helping me. I don't think I would have made it this far without you."

"No problem," said Bakura. "I...enjoyed helping you."

Bakura smirked, and Marik gave him a smile in return. There was another silence, and Bakura's face turned more solemn.

"You know, I won't be here when you get back tomorrow," Bakura finally said.

Marik looked down at his hands. "I know."

"So-" started Bakura.

"Will you...will you really be alright?" Marik cut him off.

Bakura sighed. "I told you, I have something worked out with Ryou. Besides, I've been a thief for all of my existence, so I can take care of myself. And now I've got the Ring back, so everything will be easier...especially since I won't have you around saying _Oh, don't use the Ring, don't attack people, don't get in trouble, I've got to be good_."

Marik wanted to be angry at Bakura's imitation of his Namu voice, but found himself smiling instead. "You know, after you get there, you can- can call me or just...stay in touch...if you want."

Bakura's eyes flickered up to Marik. "I think it's best if I don't."

"Yeah, I- I guess if anyone found out we were in contact, it'd be dangerous for both of us," Marik conceded. Bakura nodded.

Marik looked troubled, and finally Bakura said, "So, do you want to have one more practice duel?"

"No," said Marik forcefully, his eyes suddenly blazing. "I don't want a duel. I want you."

Bakura seemed thrown by the lustful look on Marik's face. His eyes widened, dilating, as Marik grabbed him, pulling him forward before slamming him against the wall. Marik paused for a moment, gathering his breath. Bakura looked distracted by the way Marik pressed into him, licking his bottom lip in anticipation. Letting sheer feeling take over, Marik ducked his head and ran his tongue across Bakura's throat before biting down on his neck, suddenly and desperately feeling the need to mark him.

Bakura gasped at the feeling of Marik's teeth on his throat. "Since we didn't bet...how are we..." panted Bakura.

Marik stopped momentarily and glanced up, looking into Bakura's eyes. "However you want it."

"Then fuck me," Bakura said quietly. His expression had softened, and he was gazing at Marik, his eyes full of naked desire. It was as if he'd let his defenses down for just this one moment, this one time, and it made Marik's heart speed up and his breath hitch.

"Gods, Bakura," he whispered.

And then, before he knew it, Marik was reaching out to take off Bakura's clothes right there in the hallway. Bakura started tugging at Marik's clothes, and Marik began pulling them both toward the bedroom. By the time they flopped down on the bed, side by side, they were both completely naked.

Marik's mouth was back on Bakura's neck, pressing bites along his shoulder before lingering at his chest and licking around his nipples until Bakura arched into him and moaned. They clung to each other, legs entangling and hands moving across skin and fingers twisting through hair.

Unexpectedly, Bakura reached out to touch Marik's back, his hand trembling slightly as he gently ran his fingers over Marik's skin, tracing his scars.

"Bakura- what are you doing?"

Bakura looked at him with half-lidded eyes. "Remembering you," he said quietly.

Suddenly, Marik squeezed his eyes shut. What Bakura had said was such a harsh reminder that this night was the last time he would touch him, probably the last time _anyone_ would ever touch him there because he didn't think he could ever let someone else- and his eyes were burning, and he didn't want to think about this, not now, not ever. Marik hated feeling like this, he hated it. He couldn't even define what he felt for Bakura- sometimes there would be a moment when he thought he might- but he always pushed it away from his mind, never let himself think about it. There was no point in considering it, because things couldn't be changed. What was he going to do, give up his life for a fuck buddy? Bakura could barely even stand to kiss him most of the time, he probably didn't even-

Marik cut off his own train of thought, forbidding himself to think any further along those lines. He wanted to just enjoy this and not think about tomorrow. He squeezed his eyes shut a little tighter, and when he finally opened them, they were clear.

He smiled at Bakura and gently rolled him over onto his back, moving to kneel in front of him.

"I think you want it like this," Marik said quietly. "Tell me if I'm wrong."

Bakura said nothing, only closed his eyes, and Marik sighed in satisfaction, reaching over to the dresser to grab the bottle of lube and set it beside him on the bed.

Bakura brought his knees up, and on impulse, Marik leaned down and began to trail kisses along Bakura's inner thighs, first one side, then the other. He could feel Bakura's legs tremble against his lips.

Finally, Marik brought his head up, and as he placed his hands on Bakura's thighs and slowly parted his legs further, he looked down at Bakura's face. Bakura had opened his eyes, and he was staring up at Marik with a look of almost painful longing. The sight left Marik breathless.

Marik paused for only a moment before he shakily picked up the bottle of lube and poured some into his hand. He reached out, meaning to prepare Bakura, but Bakura shook his head.

"Don't make me wait any longer," Bakura said. "Take me."

Something trembled inside Marik at the way Bakura was completely giving himself over to him. He took a steadying breath and then complied with Bakura's request, coating his own erection with the lube and then sliding inside of Bakura.

He went slowly at first, giving Bakura time to adjust, but soon he saw that Bakura was ready for more, and he began to speed up, establishing a rhythm.

"Deeper," Bakura sighed. "I want all of you."

Marik almost came right then, and he had to pause for a moment to get control of himself. When he thought he had himself under control, he shifted his position and lifted Bakura a bit. Then he started again, sliding all the way in now, as deep as he could go. Bakura moaned softly, and Marik slipped a hand between their bodies, beginning to stroke Bakura's erection.

It wasn't long before Marik could tell that Bakura was close. And this time, Marik didn't want Bakura to hold himself back at all- he wanted him to let go completely.

"Come, Bakura," Marik whispered.

Those words were all it took, and Bakura spilled over Marik's hand. Marik followed soon after, releasing inside Bakura. As Marik came, he pressed his lips to Bakura's throat, and he couldn't help sighing Bakura's name against his neck.

Marik pulled out and rolled to his side, and then he pulled Bakura to him and leaned in to capture Bakura's lips with his own. He brushed his tongue against Bakura's lips, and Bakura opened his mouth. Marik gladly took the invitation, sliding his tongue inside, and Bakura responded in kind.

It only lasted a moment before Marik pulled away, a look of worry crossing over his face briefly as he wondered whether Bakura would shove him away or if things would become awkward. But Bakura only smiled at Marik and tightened his arms around him.

Marik supposed maybe Bakura would be at least somewhat more accepting of things like this now, since it was their last-

But he didn't want to think about that, so he stopped thinking altogether and just allowed himself to move on desire, grasping Bakura's hand with his own and intertwining their fingers. Bakura shifted closer to him, and Marik sighed softly and settled into Bakura's warmth.

"You know, I bet you'll miss this when I'm gone," Bakura said. Then, more quietly, "I'll miss it, too."

"Yeah, I guess," said Marik tiredly, looking up at Bakura with hooded eyes. "But, you know, there are more important things than fucking."

Bakura smiled at him affectionately. "You're so stupid, Marik," he whispered. "So stupid."

Marik didn't know what Bakura meant, and he was about to ask, but then Bakura leaned in and softly kissed his lips once, and then again, and all thoughts immediately left Marik's mind.

Without considering what he was doing, Marik brought his hand up to gently brush back Bakura's hair, and he kissed Bakura one more time. Marik moaned softly into the kiss, enjoying the closeness.

"Gods, so fucking stupid," Bakura whispered, shaking his head slightly.

Before Marik could say anything, Bakura put his arms around him and drew him closer, and Marik automatically did the same, putting his own arms around Bakura and pulling him even nearer. Marik was sleepy, and he felt so warm and comfortable, and all he wanted right then was to fall asleep close to Bakura, so he gave him one more gentle kiss, and then he relaxed against Bakura's body and let himself drift off to sleep.

Bakura looked at Marik's sleeping form. Gently, he reached out to brush Marik's hair away from his face, and kissed him softly on his forehead.

"Thank you," Bakura whispered. "For everything."

Then Bakura settled down next to Marik, pulling him close again, and let sleep claim him as well.

When Bakura woke up, Marik was gone.


	32. Chapter 32

The sky was blue and the sun bright above the stadium, but Marik only noticed these things peripherally. His stomach was in knots. As he made his way up to the stand, he gripped the handrail tightly and fought a sudden dizzy spell. There was cheering all around him. A good amount of Luxor citizens was here to watch the championship duel, eager to see who would emerge as the victor of this tournament.

Marik shouldn't have been so nervous, but this was the moment he'd worked toward for months, and he couldn't afford to screw it up now.

An attendant handed him the dueling disk and he quietly nodded at the man before putting his deck in the disk slot. His opponent, Bahiti, moved likewise, guarded and brisk, standing opposite him on the platform. The duelist couldn't have been much older than Marik. She rolled the sleeves of her dress up partway, as if in preparation for an actual fight, eyeing Marik with a grim smile.

"Welcome, everyone," a voice boomed over the intercom. "This is the duel we've all been waiting for! The duel for the championship title..."

The rest of the speech was lost on Marik. He merely focused on his breathing, trying to even it out. He stood awkwardly waiting for the duel to start, not knowing what to do with his hands or where to look. Outwardly, he knew he looked calm. The only betrayal of his nerves was the bead of sweat that dripped down the side of his face.

Finally, the announcer finished his speech with _Let's duel!_ and they were on. After flipping for who would go first, Marik won the toss and picked up his cards.

"I place a monster in defense mode and end my turn," he said.

Damn, he didn't have any other monsters in his hand. The monster he'd just played was Gravekeeper's Spy, and if Bahiti attacked it, the flip effect would allow him to get another Gravekeeper's monster with 1500 attack or less, so at the very least he could get another monster that way.

Bahiti gave him a sly smile and drew a card.

"I play the Mystic Swordsman, level 2, and attack your face-down card."

Marik swore under his breath. The Mystic Swordsman's ability was to destroy any face-down monster in defense mode, which meant that Marik's flip effect was useless and he wouldn't be able to get another Gravekeeper. Which also meant that he was monsterless now unless he could acquire something during his next turn.

Bahiti Special Summoned the Mystic Swordsman level 4 from her deck after sending the level 2 Swordsman to the graveyard. She ended her turn.

Marik breathed in deeply, slowly drawing his next card. He needed a monster, otherwise he was going to start losing life points fast. When he drew the card, it was the Malevolent Nuzzler. Not very helpful without a monster.

"I end my turn," he said.

He saw his own face flash across the stadium screen, and it wasn't pretty. His mouth was drawn tight and his eyebrows were furrowed. The screen switched to Bahiti, who looked overjoyed as she drew her next card.

"I attack you directly for 1900 life points with my Swordsman."

Marik felt the attack as if he'd been punched in the stomach. He nearly doubled over as he realized he was already at 6100 life points and they'd just gotten started. As Bahiti ended her turn, Marik took a deep breath.

His next card still wasn't a monster, but it would finally let him turn things around. He placed the card face down in the spell and trap card area of his disk and ended his turn.

Bahiti gave him a wide grin, as if thinking she had this duel all wrapped up now. "I summon Shining Angel and attack you for 3300 life points with both of my monsters."

"Mirror Force," Marik called out, flipping up the card he'd just laid down.

Bahiti's smile dampened as she placed both monsters in the graveyard. Marik closed his eyes momentarily, realizing how close of a call it had been. If he hadn't gotten that trap card, he would be hanging by a thread with his life points now.

On his next turn, Marik finally got a monster. He played La Jinn, and since Bahiti had no monsters to defend herself with, Marik attacked her life points directly for 1800. Now they were well-matched at 6200 and 6100.

"I Special Summon Metal Reflect Slime in defense mode and end my turn," Bahiti said.

Metal Reflect Slime was a giant, 3000-defense point monster with 0 attack points, so it was equivalent to having a shield against her life points while she looked for a better monster. Marik drew another monster and placed Queen's Bodyguard in attack mode. Since neither of his monsters was strong enough to take on the Metal Reflect Slime, he ended his turn.

Bahiti placed several cards face down in the spell and trap card portion of her disk and then a monster face down in defense mode.

"I attack your face down monster with La Jinn," Marik declared during his turn.

It turned out to be Morphing Jar, which made them both discard their entire hands and draw five new cards. Marik destroyed the Jar using the Queen's Bodyguard but since it was in defense mode, his opponent's life points weren't affected.

"I play Ally of Justice Nullfier in attack mode," Bahiti said after drawing a new card.

Marik looked at the monster, confused. It only had 1600 attack points and his two monsters had 1700 and 1800 points respectively. But then Bahiti placed United We Stand on the field, and it became clear. The spell card gave all her face up monsters an extra 800 attack and defense points, meaning that the Nullfier now had 2400 points.

"I attack and destroy your La Jinn."

Marik now had 5500 life points, but he still had Queen's Bodyguard, and a strategy already formed for his next turn.

"I summon Gravekeeper's Assailant, add Rush Recklessly to my Queen's Bodyguard, and-" he said, feeling his heart beat faster now that the duel was picking up, "-and play remove trap to send your Metal Reflect to the graveyard. I attack you with the Queen's Bodyguard to destroy your Nullfier and then attack you directly with my Assailant for 1500 life points."

He felt a rush of pride for having strung all of those cards together so quickly. Now Bahiti had no monsters on the field, and she was losing with 4700 life points while Marik still had 5500. But Bahiti didn't seem affected. She seemed completely at ease with her lack of monsters as she drew her next card.

"I remove the Shining Angel and Ally of Justice Nullfier from play," she said. "They're Light and Dark types, which lets me Special Summon the Black Luster Soldier from my hand and attack your Queen's Bodyguard."

Marik's mouth felt parched suddenly. Black Luster Soldier had 3000 attack points. Not only that, but if it destroyed a monster by battle during its attacking turn, it could destroy a second monster in that same turn.

"Using Black Luster Soldier's ability, I destroy your Assailant in the same battle turn," his opponent said.

And just like that, the odds had turned against Marik again. He was monsterless, and he had just lost 2800 life points in one turn, now having 2700 left. He needed to figure out a strategy quickly, otherwise he would be wiped out during the next turn.

The reality of the situation struck him and another bead of sweat dripped down the side of his face. He placed a hand on his deck, ready to draw the next card. He had a few good cards in his hand already, but nothing to tie it all together. Nothing that could really turn it around.

He drew the card, and was stunned by what he saw.

There, right there in his hand, was all that he needed.

Laughter bubbled up in his throat, but he remained calm. He needed to see it through. His strategy was so clear now. He couldn't even believe his luck.

"Take your time there," Bahiti said, and Marik realized he'd been standing there for a few minutes, working up the courage to draw the card.

"I play Hayabusa Knight in attack mode and equip it with the Malevolent Nuzzler."

Bahiti raised an eyebrow, clearly not impressed. Hayabusa Knight now had 1700 attack points, and could attack twice in one turn, but that wasn't enough to bring down Bahiti's 3000-point monster.

"Is that it?" Bahiti jeered.

"No," Marik said. And raising the card he'd just drawn high in the air, he smiled widely.

The camera zoomed in to display the card on the screen, and the entire crowd gasped in unison. And then applauded. Because it was clear that Marik would now win the match, hands down.

On the screen, Marik's card flashed again.

Change of Heart.

Bahiti's face flashed on the screen next, and it gratified Marik to see that she was scared. Then, her expression morphed into a grimace, in the realization that she couldn't win now. Not when Marik could slam the card down, take her Black Luster Soldier and with the powered-up Hayabusa Knight, bring her life points to zero.

And suddenly, it was that simple.

He had everything he needed. The card was staring at him expectantly, and he stared back, taking a deep breath. This was it. This was the moment he had worked up to for months. With this card he could finally win the tournament championship and establish his worth as a duelist; after all the practices he'd had with Bakura, he really had improved in his strategies, and this duel proved it.

But more than that, this moment was a milestone. He had come so far in his struggle to move up in society. Several months ago, the museum officials hadn't even trusted him enough to let him help in the dig for the Millennium Items. But then there had been all the trouble with the Ring, and the officials had allowed him to look for it, and they had been very impressed when he'd found it for them. His reputation was already improving, and now, he would win the tournament, gaining the respect and admiration of everyone watching. He could only imagine the possibilities ahead of him. Soon, he'd get promoted, and then continue to move up the ranks at the museum. And the people of his city would no longer shun him. They would realize how wrong they'd been for ostracizing him. He would finally be accepted. He would no longer have to come home and complain about his terrible job and his terrible position in life to Bakura-

Well, of course he wouldn't. Because Bakura would no longer be there when he got home. But still- it didn't matter, because he wouldn't have anything to complain about anymore. He was about to get everything he wanted, everything he'd been striving for over the last few years. As soon as he laid down the winning card, he would prove himself even more than he already had, and everything would finally start to go right for him as he cemented his place in respectable society.

As he raised the card up high, ready to be glorified and named the victor, something nagged at the back of his head. After he put down the card, and won the tournament, and won the hearts of everyone watching, he would go home and- and what? He supposed the first few weeks would be a little mundane, as things settled after Bakura left. With Bakura gone, he wouldn't have a dueling partner anymore, but he supposed that now that the tournament was over, there would be no need to practice. Tonight, he'd probably be exhausted and head to bed early. Wake up the next day to go in to work tomorrow. And of course, he would keep working on those online classes he'd been taking, finish up his degree soon and take that as another step toward his advancement.

Still, as he raised the card higher, that same thought kept nagging at him. He would come home to an empty apartment tonight. The moment Marik walked in the door there would be no one to greet him. He had lived that way for three years, without anyone constantly up and about his apartment, but there was something about having had company for all these months that made this thought sobering.

And this companionship had extended to so many aspects of Marik's life. Now he would have no one to have dinner with, and no one to duel or watch a movie with, and no one to share the sheets in his bed tonight.

At that, Marik's hand wavered.

He didn't want to think about these things. He tried to push the thoughts out of his head with his usual mantra- he couldn't change it, so there was no point considering it. But now, now that everything was really _happening_ , now that he was moments away from his victory- a victory which would be immediately followed by going home to an empty, lonely apartment- he could no longer stop his thoughts. Suddenly it was as if everything was crashing down on him at once, and he was drowning in it, yet he couldn't make his mind turn away, couldn't stop himself from thinking about what would come next.

When he got into bed that night, he would be alone. And not just for the night, not even just for the week, like that week he and Bakura had fought after the Ring debacle. And that one week had been unbearable. Even though Bakura had been right in the next room, Marik hadn't gotten a good night's sleep all week, and the night they finally slept together was a relief, like a breath of fresh air. If he couldn't stand to be apart from him for merely a week, how would forever feel? How would he bear each night from now on without the feeling of Bakura's arms around him, without his fingertips against Marik's scars, and his lips tracing the crook of Marik's neck?

And at that thought, he wasn't sure he could hold the card up high anymore.

Marik looked out at all expectant faces of the crowd, the faces of the museum officials, of the locals. The moment he placed the card down, they would all be cheering for him. He would finally be good enough for them.

Except he wouldn't be; not really. If they knew he'd cheated his way into the tournament, if they knew he was gay, if they knew about what he had with Bakura- if they knew anything about who he really was, they wouldn't accept him at all.

And suddenly, it all seemed so meaningless.

Marik's hand dropped to his side. A confused murmur ran through the crowd, but Marik didn't hear it. For Marik, there was no tournament anymore. There were no spectators nor museum officials nor an opponent expecting the next duel move. There was only Marik, thunderstruck by his own thoughts.

Bakura had always accepted him. He'd never had to change himself for Bakura, or pretend to be someone he wasn't. Bakura had respected him since the moment they'd met. They had been partners since Battle City, and there had been an undercurrent, unexplored, between them since the first time they'd spoken. And then, several months ago, he'd found the Ring, and they'd finally had a chance to explore what was between them.

And it wasn't just the sex, but everything else as well. In the past few months, Marik couldn't count the number of movies they'd watched and the number of card games and video games they'd played, but those were some of his happiest moments in years. To indulge in something as simple as discussing movie characters and card strategies, wasn't that what companionship was about? Because Bakura had been his companion for all these months, and only now did that hit Marik full-force.

When Bakura had returned from the Ring that day many months ago, Marik had been relieved. He had his friend back. His best friend. But not just a friend, because there was so much that Bakura understood about Marik, understood in a way that no one else on this earth did. He knew Marik's fears, and Marik knew his. Bakura had once said they had the same scars. Hell, if they could pair each childhood suffering, Marik's against Bakura's, he was sure that in essence, they would be the same. Losing your family and chasing revenge was the same as losing your family and chasing revenge, any way you looked at it. Bakura had said it himself on the day Marik had released him from the Ring. _Ishtar, I understand you better than anyone else who has ever existed._ And it was true. No one would ever know him the way Bakura did, least of all the people from whom he was chasing acceptance.

Losing Bakura was like losing himself.

Marik could hear his own heart pounding, and there was a tightness in his chest that made it hard to breathe. This was why he hadn't wanted to think about these things. What good did coming to these realizations do him? Bakura had pointed out many months ago that he would have to leave eventually, that he couldn't spend his life hidden in a back room of Marik's apartment. And now that Bakura had stolen the Ring, it certainly wasn't an option for him to stick around. Thinking about these things had no point other than to bring Marik pain. When he got home, Bakura would be gone, and there was nothing he could do about it.

Because really, what _could_ he do about it? The question he'd asked himself the previous night reoccurred to him. _What am I supposed to do, give up my whole life for a fuck buddy?_

The previous night...the last night he'd ever spend with Bakura. He remembered it, every detail, touching Bakura and being touched by him and kissing him and falling asleep in his arms. Bakura was the person who could touch his scars. Bakura was the person who could put a smile on his face so easily no matter what else was going on. Bakura was the person who invoked these feelings in Marik. Bakura was the person who complemented Marik so beautifully that it hurt.

And suddenly, the answer was so simple.

_Yes._

Even if Bakura did only see him as a fuck buddy, the answer was yes. He would give up everything and follow Bakura to the ends of the Earth, if only Bakura would let him.

And it made him wonder. Bakura was the one who was so set on leaving...would Bakura even want him to follow?

Well, maybe. Bakura always seemed so mad every time the subject of him leaving was brought up, so maybe he didn't want to separate from Marik. Though Marik had never understood why Bakura got so mad about it, considering Bakura was the one who suggested it in the first place, and the one who kept pointing out that it was inevitable. Bakura _wanted_ to leave him...didn't he?

Now that Marik had finally admitted to himself that he felt so strongly for Bakura, he realized he'd always doubted that Bakura could possibly have those kinds of feelings for him. It was one of the reasons he'd never let himself think of his own feelings for Bakura before- what was the point of dwelling on those feelings if they would never be returned? How many times had Bakura pushed him away when Marik initiated kisses? How many times had Bakura rejected _any_ sort of intimacy? Dozens of times, actually.

But then, on the other hand...despite all those times that Bakura had pushed him away, there _had_ been times when Bakura had initiated kisses. In fact, Bakura had been the one to initiate their first open-mouthed kiss. He'd pulled Marik down in the middle of sex and pressed their lips together, kissing him passionately. Though, right after that, Bakura had pushed Marik away and rushed out of the room.

But the kiss probably hadn't been the only reason Bakura had run off. The entire experience had been intense- Marik had made Bakura look at him while he fucked him, and he'd made Bakura come without directly touching him, with Bakura claiming all the while that it didn't feel good, even when he was so clearly experiencing pleasure and trying desperately to hold himself back.

He'd been awkward around Marik for a whole day after that. The next night, when they went to bed, Bakura had edged as far away from Marik as possible. And, come to think of it, that had been another time when Bakura had initiated a kiss. Marik had reached out and pressed himself close to Bakura, and instead of moving away, as Marik expected he would, Bakura had twisted around in his arms and kissed him once on the lips. It was a short kiss, and Bakura had immediately pulled back afterward, but now Marik was wondering why he did those things in the first place. Why would Bakura initiate kisses only to then draw away and act as if he didn't want to be kissed?

Suddenly, it clicked for Marik. It wasn't just kissing that had Bakura acting that way. Hadn't Marik been the one who'd said that Bakura loved being vulnerable, loved losing control, especially when it was Marik that made him lose it? He was terrified of it, but he trusted Marik enough to let himself be controlled. All those times they'd had sex and Bakura insisted that he didn't want to be fucked when really, he was begging for it. He craved it. Would Bakura ever let himself be this vulnerable with anyone else? Marik doubted it. So maybe that attitude carried over from sex to kissing. Bakura wanted to kiss him, but had been holding himself back.

He probably should have realized it before, but Marik had always felt embarrassed and strange about his desire to kiss Bakura, as if it wasn't something he should want, and he'd certainly never wanted to consider _why_ he wanted it. But he knew now. He wanted the closeness- and Bakura wanted it too.

So maybe Bakura didn't want them to part any more than Marik did, even if Bakura _had_ been the one who said he was leaving in the first place.

Marik's brow furrowed as he thought back. How had that conversation started? Ishizu had come over unannounced to talk about the excavation...after she'd gone, he'd found Bakura smoking in his room and they'd gotten into a fight about the ashes on the carpet and suddenly Bakura had sprung up with something like _You won't have to worry about me ruining your precious carpet because once I'm done stealing tokens for you, I'll be moving out and you won't see me again_. The idea of their incompatible paths hadn't even crossed Marik's mind before that, but it was clear that Bakura had thought about it, and he wasn't happy about it.

There was something else Bakura had said that stood out now. Bakura had brought up the whole "Marik, this isn't the real you" thing- Marik winced as he realized now how right Bakura had been about that- and then Bakura had said, "You can't keep playing both sides forever. You're going to have to choose."

And that struck Marik pretty hard. Because Bakura wasn't stating a fact. He wasn't stating that he would leave no matter what, but that he would leave because Marik couldn't hide him forever. He couldn't be with Marik if he continued to associate with the museum officials and to build his reputation in Luxor. It was a decision based upon Marik's choice. It wasn't a fact at all, but a question. He'd even put it blatantly, had asked if Marik would give up everything he'd been working toward to continue associating with Bakura.

And Marik had said no.

Bakura had gotten angry and stormed out right after that, running off and getting himself hurt. And ever since then, Bakura had gotten mad when anyone talked about him leaving.

Because Marik had told him no. He'd told Bakura that he wouldn't choose him.

Marik remembered the time Ryou had made a joke about them arguing like a married couple and Bakura had immediately denied it- had denied it pretty strongly- and then brought up the fact that he was leaving after the tournament anyway, sounding angry about it. Even then, the "good guy act" Bakura continually accused Marik of came up again. It was that _if, then_ question all over again. _If_ Marik continued to work toward his reputation to please the officials, _then_ Bakura would leave.

Marik had thought Bakura was just tormenting him about his quest to gain a good reputation- and he'd focused on that because it made him so defensive, because deep down he'd known what Bakura said was true, that he'd only been pretending; pretending with everyone except Bakura. And of course he hadn't wanted to admit to himself that Bakura was right, because he'd spent three years trying to forget Bakura, three years trying to become someone he could never be.

But Marik saw now why Bakura had been mad all those times. He wasn't even mad about leaving- he was mad that Marik hadn't chosen him, _hurt_ that Marik hadn't chosen him. And Marik had inadvertently made that choice long ago, before he'd even realized it was a choice he had to make.

He gasped as he realized the full implications of it all. He thought of all the times Bakura had seemed to be uncomfortable with physical affection. He remembered the night they'd made up after a week of fighting. Bakura had been rubbing Marik's back, and Marik had kissed him. Bakura had let him, but then he'd asked him to stop, seeming out of breath, as if he was overwhelmed by that one kiss.

He remembered the time during Ryou's visit when he'd shared the couch with Bakura one night, and he had wrapped an arm around Bakura's waist, pinning him against the couch. It was an innocent move, but after a moment of lying still like that, Bakura had asked, "Why are you doing this to me?" sounding completely breathless from that simple touch.

All those times he and Bakura had kissed or touched, and Bakura had put a stop to it or pulled away- it was almost as though the kisses and touches were unbearable for Bakura, as though he'd reached out into a hot flame and then immediately snapped back, shocked at how much it burned.

And that was why. He pulled away because it hurt him.

All the moments when Bakura had held back- during sex, or kissing, or when they were just close- it wasn't because Bakura didn't want those moments.

It was because he wanted them too much.

And all this time, Marik had never realized what he was doing to Bakura. But all these conclusions, no matter how much he might berate himself for not realizing them sooner, were drawn from such small instances. Bakura was so guarded. He hardly let on how he felt about anything- denied his feelings on so many topics, in fact– so how could Marik have realized these things sooner? These moments he'd drawn upon were so few and far in between. It was any wonder he understood them now.

He thought back to the previous night again, when Bakura had traced his scars, remembering him, and what Bakura had said to him after the sex. _I bet you'll miss this when I'm gone._ Marik closed his eyes and savored that night again, losing himself in Bakura's touch, and Bakura's words: _I'll miss it, too._

And, fuck, he'd miss it so much. All of it. Every single moment of time he'd had with Bakura. Everything he'd been willing to give up...and for what? He couldn't imagine going a day, or a week, or a month without remembering the times he'd spent with Bakura, and regretting the moment he made the decision to let him go.

"I'm so stupid," he found himself saying. He was still surrounded by Luxor spectators, standing with his winning card at his side.

"Gods, so fucking stupid."

And then, taking a deep breath, Marik straightened up and raised the card high again. The entire crowd erupted in applause, ready to award the tournament victor. The Change of Heart card Marik was holding flashed across the screen again, and Bahiti winced, as if she'd already accepted the outcome.

Well, if Marik could make one decision, he could make another one. And hope that it wasn't too late.

Putting the Change of Heart card back into his hand, he threw his cards down, and declared, "I forfeit this match."

As suddenly as the applause had started, it stopped, and the entire crowd stared down at him, shocked and confused. Bahiti looked as though she thought this was a joke.

"I forfeit this tournament," Marik said again.

Looking right into the camera so that his face would flash across all the TV screens in Luxor, he spoke directly toward the screen. "I thought winning this tournament was what I wanted. I thought this is what would make me happy." He shook his head, smiling a small smile. "But I already have everything that will make me happy."

With that, he dropped the dueling disk on the stage, letting the cards fall across the floor, and looked directly at the camera one more time.

" _Wait for me._ I'm coming with you."

As he stepped down, the intercom announced the tournament winner by default. The spectators applauded his opponent, but Marik tuned it all out.

As he walked out of the stadium, Ishizu made to stand up. Her face was streaked with concern, as if she thought Marik had lost his mind. As she stood up, Rishid's hand came to rest on her shoulder, and when she looked down he merely shook his head.

"Let him," was all he said.

Marik rushed home, not even noticing his siblings' reactions.

He just hoped Bakura had watched the entire duel on TV as he had said he would, and that he would wait.

 

* * *

 

The key clicked in the lock, and Marik walked into his apartment. He looked around the empty room.

Suddenly, Bakura strode into the kitchen, and before Marik even knew what was happening, Bakura grabbed him and swept him into a kiss. Marik reacted immediately, pushing his tongue into Bakura's mouth as he turned him and slammed him against the wall. Bakura responded, and then they were kissing, just kissing, without restraint for the first time.

At first, it was frantic and fierce; they kissed each other hard and deep, pressing their lips together forcefully and winding their hands into each other's hair, grasping so tightly it was almost painful as they pushed closer to each other.

But gradually they calmed, and their movements became more soft and sensual, until every kiss was slow and gentle, and grasping hands relaxed and began to stroke lightly, their touches turning tender.

It went on, and soon they were drowning in it, giving each other soft, slow kisses as their hands began to wander and search for bare skin, just for the want of being closer.

Then Marik brushed his lips against Bakura's one more time, lingering over the kiss before finally forcing himself to pull away. Neither of them wanted to stop, but they both knew they had to; they needed to get moving soon. By the time they reluctantly broke apart and stepped back from each other, both of them were panting.

"I'm sorry," said Marik, still breathing heavily. "I'm sorry it took me so long to realize what I really care about."

Bakura wound his arms around Marik's waist and drew him close again. "You can make it up to me tonight, after we find a place to stay on the way to where we're going."

Marik smiled and kissed Bakura once more. "I'll make it up to you every night."

"Hm, sounds like a start," Bakura said, and he couldn't resist leaning in for another short kiss. Then, he finally disentangled himself from Marik again. "You took forever getting home," Bakura said. "I almost gave up and lit out anyway."

"You wouldn't," Marik smiled.

"No," admitted Bakura. "But I did do _this_." The look on Bakura's face suddenly turned wicked as he gestured towards the living room.

Marik looked in the direction that Bakura pointed, and his eyes widened at what he saw. He'd been so caught up with Bakura that he hadn't even noticed the burning smell. "You...you set my carpet on fire?" Marik asked incredulously, staring at the blackened remains of what was once his living room carpet.

"I fucking hated that carpet," Bakura said, sounding smug.

"Bakura! You could have burned the whole place down!" Marik said, but he couldn't help laughing a little.

"Nah, I had plenty of time to set up a controlled blaze between the time you forfeited and the time you finally got your ass home," said Bakura.

"Hey, it's kind of a long drive," said Marik. "Speaking of that...I suppose we'd better go pack my things."

"Yeah, I guess we'd better," said Bakura. "Don't you want to know where we're going?"

"I don't care where we go," Marik said, laughing as he wound his arms around Bakura's shoulders. "Surprise me."

"Always."


	33. Epilogue

**Epilogue**

****

**One Year Later**

"H-harder- Marik- harder, please!"

" _Ah_."

"Oh gods, I'm- yes- I'm-"

"Ah- Bakura-"

"Yes, yes, yes!"

" _Ohhh_."

"Hmm, Marik."

"Good?"

"Amazing."

"Come here."

"Mm."

* * *

  
Marik awoke still entangled with Bakura. He shifted, and Bakura opened his eyes.

"Hi," Marik said quietly, a hand coming up to brush Bakura's hair back from his face.

Bakura smiled at Marik, looking at him with half-lidded eyes. "Hi."

Marik pulled Bakura closer and gave him a soft, lingering kiss, and Bakura leaned into him. Bakura squirmed a little, still deliciously sore from the previous night, and Marik pressed him closer.

They were so caught up in each other that it took a whole minute before they noticed a bleary-eyed Ryou leaning against the frame of their bedroom doorway.

"Do you guys have any idea how thin the walls in this place are?" Ryou asked, rubbing his eyes and stifling a yawn. "I'd think you'd keep it down a little when you have a house guest."

Marik and Bakura glanced at each other, identical blushes spreading across their cheeks.

Ryou smiled at them. "Don't worry about it, I'm just teasing you," he said. "So, what do you want to do today?"

"I thought we might go to that new vegetarian restaurant that just opened up," Marik said.

"What?" Bakura said, sitting up suddenly. "Hell no, I'm not going there."

"Don't be a jerk, Bakura," Marik said, sitting up as well and crossing his arms over his chest. "We never go to any decent restaurants, and for once we have a guest, someone who can actually _appreciate_ good food-"

"Oh, fuck you! You're not dragging me to that place!"

"Gods, why do you always have to be such an asshole? You're so-"

Ryou smiled and rolled his eyes. "I swear, you two never change."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Of course, they lived happily ever after. 
> 
> Thanks for reading! Tae and I hope you enjoyed it! 
> 
> And thanks again to SuperSteffy for the beta!

**Author's Note:**

> Other works based on this series:
> 
> [Long Distance Call](https://archiveofourown.org/works/7406083%22) by [SuperSteffy](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Supersteffy/pseuds/Supersteffy)
> 
> Fanart based on this series:
> 
> [Playing Card Games Is Just Like Making Love Fanart by ShiryuLover](http://shiryulover.deviantart.com/art/I-believe-this-is-called-Thiefshipping-381229951)
> 
> [Playing Card Games Is Just Like Making Love Fanart by Caroblan](http://caroblan.deviantart.com/art/Chapter-21-from-Playing-card-games-is-just-lik-446930326)
> 
> [Playing Card Games Is Just Like Making Love Fanart by Kamy2425](http://kamy2425.deviantart.com/art/Yugioh-Videogames-564308460)


End file.
